In Plain Sight
by JustMakeLeftTurns
Summary: In our world, Elle had always believed Batman was real. After all, the best way to hide one's existence is to hide in plain sight: comic books and cartoons. But when Bruce Wayne decides to adopt her, Elle discovers that life with the Batfamily isn't all it's cracked up to be. Story better than it sounds.
1. Part One - Life and Living

PART ONE: Life and Living

Elle struggles with the concept of being adopted by previously fictional characters. She has to balance her new life, her old life, and the life that she wants. But even though she now lives with her heroes, she still has to get through normal high school problems. Eventually.


	2. Part 1A One - Life Isn't Easy

**A/N: In this universe, the comics of the Batman universe do not exist. It's just cartoons and movies. Also, Damian and the New 52 (that's what it's called, right?) do not exist.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Batman.'**

**Warnings: slight language**

* * *

PART 1A ONE: Life Isn't Easy

_Elle_

Life isn't easy. Adults always tell you about the 'real world' and how when you're a kid, everything seems surreal, as if nothing bad can ever happen to you. They tell you to enjoy your childhood while it lasts, because once you get to the 'real world,' everything changes. Childhood is fun and easy and, while you may go through some tough patches, it's all worth it.

Everything the adults tell you, every word that comes out of their mouths, is a lie. I realized this early on. My parents and teachers taught me and my classmates to be nice and to respect each other. They told me that being nice to someone else means that they will be nice back. I'm the only one who ever paid attention to that rule. It's what got me into a lot of trouble in my elementary and middle school years.

When I was five, I discovered the wonderful world of Batman. Just the cartoons, but still. They influenced me growing up just as the adults surrounding me did. I mean, in the Batman cartoons, if you were nice to someone, then they became good. Or they became nicer. So it looked like being nice or smiling at someone really did make his or her day. That's part of what shaped me into who I am now.

Despite my shyness and insecurity, I did my best to smile at someone who looked lonely, or to help someone pick up papers that had fallen all over the floor. Again, this only got my ridiculed and distanced me from my classmates.

In my darkest times, when my parents fought – as much as they loved me, they didn't seem to love each other – and when my older brother moved on to the 'cool' crowd of high school while I was a dorky middle school student, the only thing that I could rely on was Batman. I watched and re-watched episodes and even went to see the live action movie when it came out. You could say I was obsessed. I was hooked. I admired Batman. I felt connected to Robin – all versions of him. I was intrigued by Jason Todd, the Red Hood.

And so, to help handle the stress of my parents' arguing and my brother's unintentional neglect of me, I started to research everything I could about the Batman universe. Cartoons, movies, backstories, anything and everything I could find out. It helped me to focus on something else, something other than being alone. I mean, my family loved me, it's just that I was so quiet and introverted that they thought that I just didn't want to spend time with them. In the end, I'm glad they left me alone.

Because Batman is real.

It hit me three years ago, when I was fourteen. The best way to keep hidden is to hide in plain sight. And what is more in plain sight than cartoons and movies? I became a bit of a conspiracy theorist, I guess. Maybe the government knows about Batman and is trying to protect him? Anything is possible, right?

But before I could try to look any deeper into this idea, my parents and brother were killed. I'd stayed after school for some extra help in algebra, so I wasn't there. Apparently, the house caught on fire and my family couldn't get out. The fire department was on the other side of town, and they got to my home too late. Imagine my horror when I got home from school to see police and neighbors and ambulances and fire trucks … Imagine my horror when I was put into the foster care system.

I was in shock and maybe a bit in denial during the next few months, so I couldn't tell you what happened exactly. All I knew was that I was suddenly living with foster parents and two other foster kids. One of them, Derek, didn't talk but he scared me. It was like he looked right into my soul every time he stared at me. I stayed away from him the best I could, and then started avoiding him altogether. I'm sure he was nice … but the fact was, he terrified me, even though he was a few years younger than me. And that was that.

The other foster kid, Chiara, to put it simply, was a whiny and spoiled brat. I tried to like her, I really did. I tried being nice to her. I tried to understand what could have made her the way she was. But in the end, all she did was make fun of me.

One thing I learned about the foster care system is that there are two types of families: foster parents who genuinely cared, and foster parents who didn't. My foster parents were the latter. They neglected Derek, Chiara, and I to the point where we wouldn't always have food. They didn't buy me any new clothes – all of which were destroyed in the fire, save the ones on my back – so I had to share Chiara's, which pinched in some places and hung off of me in others.

So that's how I've been living for the past few years. Barely.

And then it got worse, a few months ago. I always got sick during the winter, except this time, it was bad. It turned from the common cold into bronchitis. When it seemed to turn back into a cold, I thought I would get over it. Instead, it came back with a vengeance a few weeks later as pneumonia. I didn't even realize it was pneumonia. But as I steadily got worse, despite the fact that it was quickly becoming the middle of the spring, I realized that my illness had gotten serious.

I told my foster parents that I should go to the doctor, just in case. They kept refusing. Finally, though, I'd had enough. I wasn't getting any better and I was beginning to get scared, so I decided to steal some money from my foster parents so that I could get a taxi to drive me to the doctor's. It ended up that I didn't have enough money to go to the doctor's office, so I went to the hospital, which was a lot nearer to the house.

Skipping over the boring parts, I was told that I had severe pneumonia. The doctor or nurse or whoever – I was really out of it at that point – insisted that I stayed overnight. One night turned into two. And now, I've been here about a week. I've missed a lot of school, but I'm mostly thinking about my foster family. My foster father came in once, for appearance's sake, but other than that, I've been on my own. I've gotten better, but now I fear going back to the house.

I don't have the money to pay for the hospital treatment. I don't have the money to pay back my foster parents for the money I stole. I don't have health insurance, and I highly doubt my foster parents will help pay for my hospital stay. I'm on my own.

And I wish, for the gazillion-th time, that all the members of the Batfamily were real. At least then I'd have someone to talk to.

* * *

_Wednesday, June 6_

I jolted awake, breathing heavily. I heard the heart monitor beeping quickly. I wished, once more, that the nurses would disconnect me from that. And from the IV. Hospitals creeped me out, more so since I was currently alone. The other hospital bed in the room was empty and had been for most of my stay here. And the nightmares I kept having about my family's deaths seemed scarier when it was dark in a hospital.

It was morning, which meant I was due for a visit from the nurse who checked up on me the most – Alice. She was nice and genuinely cared about my health, something I was grateful for. Unfortunately, she had other patients to attend to – well, duh – so I only got to speak to her the two or three times a day she came in to check my breathing. And stuff. I had no idea what she checked, honestly. And I didn't particularly care to know.

I'd grown to like Alice, though. I even talked about how much I liked Batman. It was better to have a mostly-onesided conversation about Batman than have the room be silent. Or worse, have Alice talk about my vitals. I'd rather not know, unless I'm healthy enough to leave. I think Alice liked me, though. She let me keep my Batman necklace on even though I shouldn't. That gained her brownie points.

Alice came into the room with whatever the hospital dared call breakfast. She did whatever it was nurses did to patients – checked the charts, etc. – and then gave me the food.

"So when can I leave?" I asked. I was eager to go, but I still dreaded the foster family back at the house. I wasn't sure which one was the lesser of the two evils, but at least at the house, I wasn't alone for most of the time.

"Your vitals are getting better," Alice told me. "And your fever is nearly gone. You're still suffering a little from dehydration, so we have to keep the IV in still." I resisted the urge to look at the IV needle in my hand. Needles creeped me out. Having one in my hand was worse. "But you should be able to leave in a couple of days."

"Okay," I said simply.

"Because you're under eighteen, you need a parent or legal guardian to sign," Alice informed me. My heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart monitor. I wondered if either of my foster parents would even let me leave. What if they left me here in the hospital? What would happen then?

Suddenly not hungry, I put down my fork. Alice grabbed my tray when I motioned I was finished. She was just about out the door when she turned back towards me.

"Oh, I made arrangements for you," she said, smiling brightly. I didn't like the look in her eye. "You'll be having visitors this afternoon."

"Visitors?" I asked, astonished. I was suddenly very self-conscious and very aware of the fact that I'd showered maybe once this week. Not to mention, who would visit me? I didn't have any friends. And my foster family was definitely not coming in to see me.

"You'll see," Alice winked and then she left. I groaned. I was suddenly not looking forward to the afternoon.

To pass the time, as I'd done for the past week, I read magazines that Alice and some other nurse who'd taken pity on me had brought. Of course, I wasn't a magazine-reading person, plus I'd read the same magazines what felt like a bazillion times already, so it wasn't anything exciting. I lied down and tried to sleep a couple of times, but my mind raced with Batman and with questions of who would be visiting me.

At 3:00, Alice knocked on the door. It was a bit early for her to be checking me over again, so I assumed that my supposed visitors had arrived. I looked up from where I was making fun of models in a magazine. Alice came into the room, a wide smile on her face.

"You're going to love this," she told me. I shot her a confused look. And then I noticed who had come into the room with her.

Now, cartoons are very different to how people would look in real life, but, as a hardcore-ish Batman fan, I recognized the three people anywhere. Handsome, older, charming smile – Bruce Wayne. Equally as handsome, early to mid-twenties, mischievous twinkle in his eyes – Dick Grayson. Pretty-boy, around my age, a bit of a shy smile – Tim Drake.

But, of course, I couldn't be sure. Okay, I was sure, but what if I was wrong? So I shut my gaping mouth and turned to Alice, who was still smiling as she checked over my chart or whatever.

"I know how much you like the … 'Batfamily,' I think you called it," Alice said. I blushed and Dick snorted back laughter. "And I know someone who knows someone who … well, here they are, in any case."

I just stared, defaulting to being shy rather than fangirl. Bruce Wayne - holy shit, Bruce freaking Wayne – walked over to the side of my bed and held out a hand.

"Bruce Wayne," he said. "Nice to meet you, miss …?"

"Elle," I said quietly. Maybe too quietly, but I couldn't help it. I took his hand and shook it the best I could without ripping out the IV.

Dick and Tim introduced themselves. Alice explained to them how I was a big fan – with me blushing more and more with every word – and how I was apparently very obviously bored and lonely. I liked her, but I was glad when she finally left.

That's when I realized that three of my heroes were in the same room as me. And they were staring at me. I shifted uncomfortably, disliking the attention I was being given.

"How long have you been here?" Bruce asked me.

"About a week," I replied. At their questioning stares, I added, "Severe pneumonia. But I should be leaving in a couple of days."

"And is that all you've had for entertainment?" Dick nodded towards the magazines. I shrugged.

"Not really my thing, but it's better than nothing."

There was an awkward silence as no one could think of anything to say. I bit my lip.

"Sorry," I told them. "I'm not exactly exciting. And I don't know why you would want to talk to some random girl in a hospital. You don't have to stay." Even though I wanted them to, I knew that it would be selfish to try to keep them there. They had better things to do.

"Hey, anything to help keep you distracted from all this," Dick said. Tim nodded in agreement.

"Hospitals aren't fun," he said.

"I suppose you can't wait to get out of here," Bruce said. I nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I hate the hospital, but it's not like home's any better." I stifled a gasp. Why had I just said that? Me and my stupid mouth.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"It's nothing," I said. Maybe a bit too quickly.

"No, it's not," Bruce said. I bit my lip and lowered my gaze. His Batman side was showing. I really didn't want to be on the receiving end of that. I had no choice but to give in if I didn't want to be yelled at.

"My foster family isn't the greatest," I said carefully, as if it was no big deal. "It's not the worst, though. I'm not hit or anything." At Bruce's stare, I went on, "It's mostly that I'm going to be in a lot of trouble when I get back." Great. The one thing I shouldn't have said to the Batfamily, and I said it.

"What kind of trouble?" Tim questioned. I was starting to feel claustrophobic. My hands started sweating. I really didn't like the way this first – and probably last – meeting with my heroes was turning out.

I fiddled with the edges of the hospital sheets, my fingers trembling. "Nothing too bad," I said. "It's just that I can't afford the hospital bill. And my foster parents aren't exactly the spending-money type."

"I'll pay the bill," Bruce said abruptly. Surprised and guilty, I looked up at him.

"But –"

"I'll pay it," Bruce said, final. I went to protest again – I didn't want him to spend his money on me – but Dick interrupted.

"Don't bother to argue," he smirked. "He has this thing about helping kids."

I grinned sheepishly. "Thank you," I told Bruce.

Bruce smiled. "You're welcome."

He glanced at his watch. He headed towards the door.

"It was very nice to meet you," he told me before stepping out into the hallway. Tim nodded goodbye at me and Dick waved.

"Bye," I said.

It didn't hit me until later that night. But when it did, I started crying. Happy crying. I'd gotten to meet my heroes. And Bruce was going to pay for my hospital bill.

Now there was only one thing to worry about: the foster family.


	3. Part 1A Two - Life Changes

PART 1A Two: Life Changes

_Elle_

Life is constantly changing. That's one thing that they don't really teach you in school. Maybe the odd teacher here and there will make a passing mention of it, but no one really explains it. There is no set 'fate' for anyone. There are so many different ways a person's life can go.

I thought that mine would be pretty straightforward: go to school, go to college, get a job in an office (no matter how boring that would be), have a family. After my family's deaths, my life took a turn. I figured that my life would be something like: go to school, get a job, maybe go to college, have a family.

And then I met the Batfamily. It wasn't for very long. Less than an hour. But it reminded me that life always throws something at you that you don't expect, for better or for worse, and you have to deal with it. You can't plan your life out because who knows when something is going to change?

I was excited after the Batfamily left because I'd been right. They were real. They weren't just fictional characters who I was borderline obsessed with. They were living, breathing people. And Bruce Wayne was going to pay for my hospital bill, which made me breathe a little easier.

Of course, that was probably the only time I would ever get to meet them. I'm glad it happened, though. It certainly made me happier. And saved me some time researching – I'd never gotten around to looking deeper into the Batman universe, mostly because I was just trying to survive foster care. The Batfamily was nice, though. They really were.

Too bad I would probably never see them again.

* * *

_Thursday, June 7_

Another nightmare woke me up at dawn. I'd had them off and on since I was fourteen. They just happened more here in the hospital, probably because I hated hospitals. And being alone. It took me a little longer to get over the nightmare – almost always the same one – but I finally was able to calm my racing heart.

I was bored out of my mind for the billionth time that week. Now that I was nearly healthy enough to leave, I was becoming even more restless. At least Alice took out the IV when she came by. But the heart monitor had to stay connected, for whatever reason.

After meeting Bruce, Dick, and Tim, reading boring magazines (again) made me want to throw something at the wall. I didn't, but I still wanted to. When I ran out of models to make fun of, I started folding the pages of the magazines. Yes, I was that bored.

A little after my lunchtime, the door opened. I looked up from the magazine in my hands. I tried to hide my surprise when Bruce, Dick, and Tim entered. Of course, the heart monitor revealed it, the traitor. I put the magazine to the side and tried to sit up a bit more, only to be hit with a slight dizzy spell. I ignored it until it went away a few moments later. I smiled at my visitors.

"Hi," I greeted, not really knowing what else to say. Bruce sat in the chair next to my bed. Tim dragged another chair from the other side of the room to sit on my other side. Dick sat on the end of my bed. I shifted nervously. Had I done something wrong? I was quickly feeling trapped. And I didn't like it one bit.

My worries were for naught, though, as each of them smiled and said hello in turn.

"How are you feeling?" Tim asked.

I grinned. "Getting better."

"They took the IV out," Bruce noticed. I nodded.

"I'm guessing that's a good sign," I half-joked. I guessed my shyness from yesterday had vanished, at least somewhat. At least I was talking back. And not practically whispering.

"So," Dick started, smile on his face. I was very, very wary of him. "You're a fan of the … 'Batfamily'?"

I groaned and put my head in my hands. I felt the skin on my face and the back of my neck heat up. I was hoping that we would never have this conversation. But really, what did I expect? I heard Dick chuckle. I felt all of their stares on me, waiting for my answer. I couldn't bring myself to speak, so I shrugged.

"That's not an answer!" Dick playfully whined.

"I want to know what she thinks," Tim added to my embarrassment. I looked up and shot him a half-hearted glare. He smirked in response.

"I dunno," I stated simply, shrugging again.

"Who's your favorite?" Dick pestered me. "It's me, isn't it? The first Boy Wonder, the great Nightwing!"

"Great at boasting, more like," Tim muttered, smile on his face.

"Leave her alone, you two," Bruce said. I smiled at him gratefully.

"But I'm curious!" Dick pouted. I couldn't help but laugh. He was ridiculous but entertaining, I'd give him that. Dick smiled in apparent victory as I laughed.

"You feel an emotion other than shyness!" Dick exclaimed mockingly.

I pouted. "Shut up," I whined, crossing my arms.

"It's good to see you coming out of your shell," Bruce commented. I resisted the urge to hide my head in my hands again. I clenched my hands in an attempt to push away my shyness.

"We should be going," Tim said. I waved goodbye to them as they left for the second time.

This time, I didn't cry – not even happy tears. I laughed. Because they'd so easily gained my trust. They'd so easily gotten me to laugh and be a bit more open in their presence. I hadn't been close enough to anyone to do that in a long time.

* * *

_Friday, June 8_

I really shouldn't have been surprised when Dick came in just before noon. He smiled widely and held a plastic shopping bag in the air.

"I bring thee food!" he exclaimed. I laughed.

"You didn't have to," I told him. Dick sat in the chair beside me and plopped the bag on my legs. I grinned shyly. "Thanks."

In the bag were a turkey and cheese sandwich, crackers, grapes, a small container with what looked like mashed potatoes in it, a bottle of water, and a Hershey's chocolate bar.

"It was Alfred's idea," Dick explained. "Except for the chocolate. That was all me."

I smiled. "Thank you." Finally, some real food. I started eating.

After a few seconds of silence, Dick said, "This place is boring."

I nodded. "All I have are the same magazines. And no one will let me get up and walk around."

"Do you know when you're allowed to leave?"

"Tomorrow. That is, if I can get someone to sign the form or whatever." I had no idea what it was my foster parents had to sign. Nor did I know what would happen if no one signed for me. Couldn't I just sign for myself?

"Why don't your foster family come and visit you?" Dick asked. The question was said lightheartedly but his expression was serious. I shrugged; the answer for everything.

"They're just my foster family," I replied, pretending it didn't matter. And, really, it didn't. Really. "It doesn't matter."

"So, what, they just dropped you off here and never came back?" Dick asked incredulously.

"Kind of …"

"Well, do your friends visit you?"

"I don't have any," I admitted quietly, nibbling on a cracker. I was embarrassed that I didn't have any friends. I mean, who wants to talk to someone like that?

"'Course you do!" Dick told me. "You have me!"

I just shrugged. I didn't consider us friends. We'd only met a couple of times. And besides, I knew all about him while he knew next to nothing about me. Therefore, we weren't friends. Just a hero and a fan, that was all.

Dick seemed to sense that I didn't like the direction the conversation was going and changed the subject. We played a couple of games – Eye Spy, Tic Tac Toe, Hangman, stuff like that. After he got a call on his cell phone, he turned to me apologetically.

"Sorry. Duty calls."

It was then that I remembered that he was a policeman during the day. I guessed that I was so caught up with the mask that I forgot that there was someone without the mask, too.

I went to wave goodbye, but was thoroughly surprised when Dick leaned over and gave me a hug. I stiffened, unused to hugs, but eventually hugged back. He pulled away, mock saluted me, then left.

Only a few hours later, I received another visitor. This time, it was Tim. He had a laptop case with him. I assumed that he was on his way to or from the library or something, so I was shocked when he handed the case over to me.

"Happy get-well gift, I suppose," Tim smiled. I blinked in surprise.

"What?" was all I could get out.

"Well, you said you were bored, and Dick agreed," Tim explained.

"So you got me a laptop," I deadpanned. "I can't accept this. It's expensive …"

"Bruce insists," Tim grinned. He sat down as I unzipped the case, revealing the plain black laptop inside. I couldn't stop smiling. I felt guilty that Bruce had gotten me this, but at the same time, I was really happy.

I closed the case. I didn't want to use it while I actually had someone to talk to. Unfortunately, the visitor's hours were soon up, and Tim was forced to leave. I called out another thank you as he left.

* * *

_Saturday, June 9_

The next morning, as soon as I'd had my breakfast, Alice told me that my foster father had signed whatever papers needed signing. Apparently, he was waiting in the lobby for me. I gulped. I took a quick shower, dressed in the same clothes I'd come in with, and grabbed my laptop. I was glad to be leaving but terrified of what was about to happen.

My foster father didn't say anything. As soon as he saw me, he started walking towards his car. I had trouble keeping up – staying in a hospital bed for about a week does that to you, I guessed. I collapsed into the passenger seat. As soon as we were out of the parking lot, my foster father broke his silence.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he steamed. I looked out the window, too scared to answer. I wasn't sure he even wanted an answer. "You stole our money. And now we have to pay those medical bills!"

I wanted to tell him that Bruce was paying, but didn't want to anger him further. He'd probably rant about strangers. Or maybe try to use that as an excuse to get rid of me. So I kept quiet. I cringed as his voice rose louder and louder with every word. I let him yell. I just zoned out.

The minute I stumbled into the house, I was met with my foster mother's sneer. She said something about me being ungrateful. I just walked away. Surprisingly, no one had noticed the laptop yet. All I had to do was get to the room I shared with Chiara. Unfortunately, that required stairs. And my legs could barely support my weight walking on a flat surface.

It took me five whole minutes to make my way up the staircase, all the while my foster parents yelled and complained at me. Derek saw me coming up the stairs and went into his room. Chiara mocked the difficulty I was having with the stairs. I didn't know exactly what she said. Something about me being useless, I thought. But a headache was quickly forming, plus I was in pain from climbing the stairs.

Chiara, thankfully, left me alone as soon as I made it to my bed. The yelling from my foster parents stopped, as well. I hid my laptop under my bed and collapsed.

What a wonderful welcome back this had been.

* * *

_Sunday, June 10_

I spent my first full day back at the house in bed. This time, at least, I had my laptop. Chiara was whining about how hungry she was somewhere downstairs. Derek was probably in his room. My foster mother was out at the mall. My foster father was telling Chiara how ungrateful she was. The same old argument.

I managed to get internet on my laptop, for once glad that my foster parents had internet connection, even if they never let us use it. All day, I just streamed Batman cartoons on Netflix or on youtube. I didn't have earphones, so I had to keep the volume down, lest someone hear it and realize that I had a laptop.

The doorbell rang. I was surprised. No one ever came to the house. I ignored it and continued watching my cartoons. I looked up, deer in headlights look probably on my face, as the bedroom door opened. I paused the video when I saw it was Bruce. I sat up, smiling widely. I placed the laptop to the side and stood.

"Thank you so, so much," I told him. "For everything." The bills, the food (well, that was Alfred, but still), the laptop … It was all too much.

"You're welcome," Bruce replied. He eyed the way I was having trouble on my feet. "You should sit down." I did so, sure that he would make me sit if I didn't.

"I'm fine," I reassured him.

"I met your foster father," Bruce said, sitting on the bed beside me. "He's … interesting."

I snorted. "Yeah. Interesting."

"He doesn't like you," Bruce stated. I nodded in agreement.

"He and Claire – my foster mother – don't like any of us," I admitted. Thinking Bruce was going to go tell social services or something, I hurriedly added, "But it's really no big deal."

"Tell me this," Bruce looked at me. I looked down at my hands. "If your foster parents don't like foster kids, then why did they take you guys in?"

"They get money from the state," I explained. I shrugged. "Really, it's no big deal."

Bruce went to reply, but Chiara entered the room. Upon seeing Bruce, she stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms so her cleavage showed more.

"You don't want to be in here," she said. I blushed at her attempts to flirt. Bruce was never going to want to talk to me again, now. "She's a loser. You should talk to someone like me."

Bruce stood up. I pushed back tears. I knew it.

"It's time that I be going, thank you," Bruce said. "It was nice meeting you." To me, he said, "It's good to see you on your feet." And then he left.

Chiara whined at me and complained about how much of a loser I was and that I had scared him off. I let her rant. When she had her back turned, I hid my laptop back under the bed. That had been a close one. I was very lucky that my foster family seemed oblivious to what was right in front of them.

Unfortunately, I was stuck with them until I turned eighteen. And then I would be thrown out. And where would I go, then? For once, my foster parents were right. I was ungrateful. So what if I never see Bruce, Dick, and Tim again? At least I have a roof to live under. For now.

* * *

_Monday, June 11_

I was alone in the house today. Derek and Chiara were with friends. My foster parents were on a date or something. I sat in the living room and watched more Batman cartoons. It was early afternoon when the doorbell rang. Trying not to get my hopes high, I opened the door. Bruce had come back. I smiled and moved aside. Bruce entered the house. I closed the door behind him.

"Sorry about Chiara yesterday," I apologized. "She's always like that."

"Elle," Bruce stopped me from making any more apologies. I bit my lip. Did I do something wrong? "I want to talk to you about you and your foster family."

My eyes widened. What if he was going to tell my social worker? What if I was taken away to a different – read: worse – foster family? I'd grown used to my only foster family's dynamics. I didn't want to relearn how to deal with new people. Or what if I was sent to a girls' home, or whatever they were? I'd heard those were worse.

"You aren't happy here," Bruce told me. I opened my mouth to protest – anything to keep me from being sent somewhere worse – but Bruce didn't let me. "Don't lie to me."

I fiddled with my hands. "Please don't tell anyone," I begged quietly. "I can deal with it. And I'm out of here as soon as I'm eighteen."

"I know how the foster care system works," Bruce said. My heart sank. So he knew that I would be kicked out. "And I don't think that's right."

"Well, what can you do?" I asked rhetorically, turning away.

Bruce placed a hand on my shoulder and gently turned me back around to face him. "I want to adopt you."

I blinked. I couldn't have heard that right. There was no way I could have heard that right. Bruce Wayne – Bruce freaking Wayne – a man who knew me for only a few days – wanted to adopt me. Me. A random, shy, strange, teenaged girl.

"You don't even know me," was the first thing that came out of my mouth.

"And you don't know me," Bruce said. "Not really. But I want to help. I won't push you to do anything, but I want you to let me adopt you."

Of course, my brain to mouth filter stopped functioning. "You really have a soft spot for orphans," I said sarcastically. I blushed as soon as I heard what I'd said.

Bruce, though, seemed to agree. He smiled. "So, what do you think?" I shrugged. "Think about it for a while. Let me know when you've decided, either way." Bruce made to leave.

"Wait." My thoughts raced. This could be great. This could be really, really great. I'd be family with Batman, Nightwing, and Robin. I'd have a place to belong. I wouldn't be kicked out in a few months. I might even be able to go to college.

"Okay," I breathed, still amazed. I smiled and looked at Bruce. "Yes. Yes, you can adopt me."


	4. Part 1A Three - Life's Lemons

**Warnings: language**

* * *

PART 1A THREE: Life's Lemons

_Elle_

Life gave me lemons and I made lemonade. Well, I was given the sugar and the glass. I just chose to stir it all together. Although I wonder if it's too sweet. After all, too much sugar will ruin the lemonade just as too many lemons will.

I still can't believe that Bruce Wayne, someone who was a fictional character until recently, wants to adopt me. I wanted to say no and yes at the same time. I'm excited and overjoyed, though. My heroes are going to become my family. Well, on paper, at least. That's something, right? And living with Bruce is a lot better than with my foster family.

A part of me is worried that I'm getting ahead of myself, that it's all too good to be true. What if I'm actually in a coma and this is all a dream? Meeting the Batfamily, being adopted by Bruce … And why oh why did I say yes? I should have waited. I should have thought about it. I can always back out, I know this, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Not to mention, a really do want to be adopted. It's a dream come true.

I'm not looking to replace my real family. I hope that Bruce understands this. My parents will always be my parents and my brother will always be my brother. I suppose that's one reason I'm getting cold feet about my adoption. It's a huge step away from my real family. I don't want to give them up. I don't want them to be disappointed in me because I'm getting a new adopted family. And I don't want my new adopted family to be replacements because they are more than that.

And then there's the fact that I really don't know Bruce, Dick, and Tim. Not really. I know how they're portrayed in cartoons and movies. But in real life, I'm clueless. What if we end up hating each other? What if they're already mad at me for agreeing to the adoption? I never thought about what they would think about it. What if they think that Bruce is moving on from them? I don't want to cause any strain between them and Bruce. And I don't want them to hate me, either.

Maybe I really did make that lemonade too sweet.

* * *

_Tuesday, June 19_

It'd been a little over a week since I'd agreed to be adopted. I hadn't seen Dick or Tim, which only furthered my paranoia that they were angry. Bruce had stopped by a few days ago to tell me that he was working on some papers that would legally allow me to live with him. It was probably to make him my legal guardian, or something. I didn't know. All I knew was that I was stuck living with my foster family, who had discovered that I was going to be adopted.

My foster parents were furious, to say the least. Honestly, they were just upset that as soon as I was living with Bruce, they wouldn't be given money from the state. That money would go towards Bruce, seeing as he would become my legal guardian. I think. I wasn't sure how it worked. Either way, my foster parents wouldn't receive any more money.

I was yelled at a lot, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. I stayed in my room most of the time, partly to avoid them, and partly because I was still recovering from pneumonia. I was still a bit shaky-legged and occasionally became short of breath. And, of course, exhaustion. I'd improved a lot in the past week, but due to the lack of food and medication, it was slow going.

Chiara was overjoyed that I was leaving. She was also jealous that Bruce was adopting me. I think a part of her wished that she could get out of this foster family as well, but knew that it could also be worse. Or, well, she could just be a whiny brat. I wasn't sure which one.

Derek was Derek. I rarely saw him, and when I did, he just stared. I was glad that he was also big on staying in his room.

Today, though, was a good day. Once again, I was left alone in the house. I made my way downstairs to the living room, just as I had before. I was about to watch The Dark Knight Returns when the doorbell rang. Hoping it was Bruce, I answered the door. I was surprised to see Dick and Tim.

"Hi," I said quietly. They entered the house, greeting me in return. I sat down on the couch. Dick sat beside me and Tim sat in the chair across from me.

"Sorry we haven't come by," Tim said. "Things have been a bit … hectic."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Did he mean Batman hectic? Or adoption process hectic? Was it my fault? I just shrugged. "It's fine."

"Now, the question of the day," Dick grinned. "How does it feel like to be getting adopted?"

I blinked. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" At Dick and Tim's confused faces, I added, "I mean, I never thought about what you guys might think. Aren't you mad at me?"

"Mad? Why would we be mad?" Dick furrowed his brow. "I think it's great."

Tim nodded in agreement. "Did you think that we would be jealous or something?" Dick's eyes widened in realization.

I blushed. "I dunno. I guess." I looked down at my lap. "And you don't know me. I'm just going to mess everything up."

"Hey, look at me." I raised my eyes to meet Dick's, surprised at how gentle his voice was. "You're not going to mess anything up. I promise."

"We don't know you," Tim agreed with my statement. I looked over at him. "But we can get to know each other." I grinned.

"I'll ask again," Dick grinned. "How're you feeling?"

"Nervous," I admitted. "Excited."

"That's normal," Tim assured me. "I felt the same way."

"But I'm also really scared, like this is all going to be ripped away from me," I blurted. And once the words started, I couldn't stop them. I rubbed my arms and stared at the floor. "For so long, you guys have been my heroes. I practically worshipped you. And now that I know you're real and that Bruce is going to adopt me? It's too good to be true, and I'm scared."

Dick reached over promptly and gave me a hug. Again, I stiffened, but was able to relax much quicker this time. I held back my tears. The last thing I wanted to do was cry like a child.

"You don't have to be scared," Tim said. "We're not going anywhere."

Dick rubbed my back. I breathed shakily, trying to prevent myself from crying. I pulled away, suddenly uncomfortable and claustrophobic. I didn't want to be touched. I didn't want anyone to look at me. I did my best to compose myself.

"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You're right. I was just being stupid."

"Elle –"

"My foster parents will be home soon," I interrupted Tim. "Trust me, you don't want to meet them."

Dick sighed and reached over to give me a hug. At the last minute, he decided against it and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair. He shot me a grin before leaving. Tim waved goodbye.

And suddenly I was alone.

* * *

_Wednesday, June 20_

I was woken up to the sound of my foster father yelling at me.

"Get up, you useless bitch!" he shouted. "That pretty-boy is here for you!"

Before my sleep-induced brain could figure out who he was talking about, Bruce entered the room. He stared steadily at my foster father.

"Thank you, I think that's enough," he said calmly, although I noticed the anger in his eyes. My foster father shot me one last glare.

From the other bed, Chiara peered out from beneath her sheets. "Are you leaving?"

Unsure of the answer, I sat up and looked over at Bruce, who nodded. "I received notification this morning," he told me. "You are now allowed to live with me until the adoption process is complete."

I smiled and sat up. I looked down at my – or rather, Chiara's – pajamas. "Can I get dressed first?"

Bruce nodded and left the room. I found the only set of clothes that were truly mine and started changing into them, ignoring Chiara.

"Will you come back?" she asked me as I pulled my shirt over my head.

"Probably not," I admitted. I slipped into my jeans and flip-flops. I grabbed my laptop and case.

"Hey, Elle?" I turned warily to Chiara. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "S'okay." It wasn't. It really wasn't, but I didn't want to start a fight on the day that I moved out.

I exited the room. Bruce stood there patiently.

"Is that all you have?" he asked, concern on his face. I shrugged.

"I lost everything in a fire," I said simply.

Bruce didn't ask, but he seemed to know what I was implying. He led me outside, where a car was waiting. And standing outside the car was who I assumed was Alfred. I smiled shyly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Elle," Alfred greeted as he opened the backseat door for me. I climbed in. Bruce sat beside me. I never understood why no one ever sat in the passenger seat with the driver of a celebrity or whatever, but I kept my mouth shut.

Alfred and Bruce sensed my shyness, I guess, because neither spoke to me. I looked out the window, trying to figure out where we were going.

Finally, I couldn't ignore my curiosity any longer. "Where are we going? Gotham doesn't actually exist, does it?"

"I assure you that Gotham does exist," Alfred told me, a hint of a smile on his face. I blushed.

"But wouldn't everyone go looking for you?" I asked. "And I've never seen Gotham on any maps."

"That's because Gotham isn't on any maps," Bruce explained. "The same with Bludhaven."

"So because they're not on any maps, no one goes looking?" I guessed, looking at Bruce. He nodded, surprised.

"That's right," he said. "Anyone who goes through Gotham by chance never makes the connection. And if they do, well, it's not as if anyone will believe them."

I let the conversation drop. We drove for a few hours until we finally made it to what I assumed was Gotham. I certainly recognized some of the buildings from the cartoons. That reminded me –

"Why cartoons? And movies?" I asked. "Were you told they were made? Did you ask? Does this mean that someone knows you're real?"

"We're hidden in plain sight," Bruce told me what I already knew. "That way, if someone claims to have seen Batman, then no one will believe him."

"But how did it start?"

"Master Bruce, Miss Elle, we have arrived," Alfred cut off anything Bruce was going to say. I ignored the fact that Bruce didn't answer and that Alfred conveniently spoke up. Instead, I looked up at Wayne Manor.

Alfred pulled up in front of the doors. Bruce and I entered the building. That was when it really and truly hit me: Batman was real. The building was huge. I suddenly felt very, very small and out of place. My excitement faded into uncertainty. I grasped my laptop bag with two hands, the only thing I was willing to grab onto.

Bruce led me on a tour of the building. I was lost within a few minutes, but I didn't tell him that. It would take some getting used to, but I'd figure it out. Bruce brought me to the kitchen, where Tim was eating at the table. Alfred placed two more plates of food at the table. Bruce sat at one seat. I stood, not sure if I was allowed to sit. Tim smiled at me and gestured at a seat.

Tim and Alfred talked. I just sat there, eating and soaking in the fact that I was in Wayne Manor. Bruce finished eating and left, saying he had a press conference or something.

"Miss Elle, are you alright?" Alfred asked. I looked up at him and smiled.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm still getting used to all this."

"You've barely eaten," Tim noticed. I shrugged.

"It's more than what I got before." Immediately afterwards, I wanted to take back those words. It would only cause them to worry.

And, of course, worry they did. "They starved you?" Tim asked incredulously, eyes wide.

"It's no big deal," I protested.

"I have to disagree," Alfred spoke up. "You are not allowed to leave the table until you've finished your food."

I nodded in agreement. I understood where they were coming from. I mean, I barely ate enough as it was, and then I rarely ate when I was with my foster family. I ate the rest of lunch without a fuss. Alfred took the plates and went over to the sink.

"I can help," I said, standing up.

"I've got it," Alfred told me. "Why don't you and Master Timothy go talk?"

I knew when I was being dismissed and followed Tim out of the room.

"Did Bruce show you your room yet?" Tim asked.

I shrugged. "Sort of. He put my laptop in one of the rooms and said it was mine, but I don't know how to get there."

"I can show you," Tim said, leading me upstairs. We went down two corridors before stopping in front of a room. "This is yours. Mine is that one," he pointed to the room across the hall. "And Bruce's is down that way." He pointed to a room that was three doors down. "And when Dick stays here, that's his room." He pointed to the room beside his.

I smiled. "Thanks." I fiddled with my hands nervously, not really sure what to say.

Tim grinned widely. "Want to see the Batcave?"

"Am I allowed to?" I asked.

"Who cares?" Tim led me to where I knew the entrance was. But seeing it in a cartoon and seeing it in real life are two very different things. He began walking down the stairs to the Batcave. I hesitated, a little nervous. What if Bruce didn't want me to see? What if he got mad at me?

"Well? Are you coming?" Tim called up to me.

I took a quick glance behind me before following Tim into the Batcave. It was a lot more impressive in person than it was in cartoons. I stood in the center and turned slowly, taking it all in.

"This is amazing," I breathed.

After looking around the Batcave some more, Tim and I returned upstairs. Tim taught me how to play some video game, which we played for a couple of hours. Afterwards, he took me to the Gotham library and showed me some of the places that were popular – a couple of shops, ice cream parlors, diners, stuff like that. We passed the school, which also looked daunting. I was relieved when we returned to the manor; I was in no way a city girl.

Alfred made an amazing dinner, and then I headed up to my room, getting lost only once and even then I was able to find my way. Tim gave me some of his and Dick's clothes to wear – "until we get you your own" – so I used one of Dick's shirts as pajamas and slipped into my bed.

It was dark and lonely. It was only Alfred and me in the manor. Tim and Bruce were out patrolling, I assumed. No one ever said anything, but I guessed that they figured it was a given where they were. Alfred was probably in the Batcave somewhere. I was alone in a huge bedroom. I brought out my laptop and streamed Batman: Under the Red Hood.

And that was when I remembered Jason. Was he in Gotham somewhere? Were he and the rest of the Batfamily still on bad terms? After all, no one had mentioned him. I wanted to ask Alfred, but what if talking about Jason was taboo here? I was curious, but I decided to keep quiet about it. No need to stir up trouble.


	5. Part 1A Four - New Life

PART 1A FOUR: New Life

_Elle_

People say that you only live one life. That's great and all, but I disagree. It's true that you only live once, but to only live one life? I suppose it depends on how you look at it. It seems that the consensus is that life is equal to how many years are spent breathing. But what about those actual, individual years? The days? The hours, the minutes? I think those are more important. What is done in those times is what defines your life, not how long you're breathing.

I mean, you can live to be 102 years old, but if all you did was follow everyone else and not think for yourself or do what you enjoy, did you really live? No. I don't think so. You just lived like everybody else seemed to be instead of living like you should have. And therefore, I don't think you really lived. Such a waste of oxygen and time.

Then there's the consensus that you only live one life. Once again, it all depends on your definition of life. It's similar to what living is – doing what you want and what you enjoy – except it's broken down even further. You live the life of a child, then the life of a college student or the life of a soldier or something like that, then the life of whatever you decide to do.

For instance, I lived the life of a child when I was with my birth family. Then I was forced to grow up some and live with strangers. I lived the life of a foster child. And now, I'm living the life of a soon-to-be-adopted girl in Wayne Manor.

It all depends on perspective.

* * *

_Thursday, June 21_

Breakfast was at nine. Alfred came in and woke me up at 8:30. I spent the next half hour marveling at how there actually seemed to be a bit of a fixed schedule with the Batfamily, something that hadn't existed for me in years. I dressed in Tim's clothes after showering and made my way to the kitchen. I was glad that I didn't get lost. That would have been embarrassing.

I sat at the table cautiously, still unused to the fact that I lived there now. Bruce and Tim both looked sleepy, so I kept quiet. Alfred served a large breakfast, which I ate wholeheartedly. I hadn't eaten so well for a long time.

I kind of zoned out for most of the meal, partly because I was tired – I was a bit of an insomniac and definitely not a morning person – and partly because I was bored. But when Tim and Bruce started talking about what I assumed was something that had happened last night on their patrol, I started paying attention.

"– who he was in contact with," Bruce finished saying.

I couldn't help myself. I wanted to be included and I wanted to know what had happened. "Who who was in contact with?"

Tim and Bruce glanced at each other, as if to wonder if I should be told anything. I pushed down my frustration. I wasn't naïve to crime. And it wasn't like I was going to tell anyone. Who would I tell?

"It's just someone we interrogated last night," Tim said, trying to shrug it off.

Ha. As if it was that simple. The way they'd been talking suggested it was something serious. And I wanted to know what. I had a right to know that, didn't I?

"Who?" I asked, keeping my voice calm. It wouldn't help to lose composure in front of my future adopted family.

"No one," Bruce stated darkly. Obviously, then, it was someone important. Someone so important that they couldn't tell me.

Or they just wanted me in the dark.

Frustrated and maybe a little jealous, I put down my fork and looked between Tim and Bruce. "I'm not a child," I said, half-lightly, half-seriously. "I can handle it. I want to know."

"It's none of your concern," Bruce said.

"But –"

"Master Bruce, perhaps it is best to include Miss Elle in the details about your night job," Alfred interrupted. I shot him a small smile of gratitude.

"End of discussion," Bruce repeated firmly. "It doesn't concern you."

It was like a slap in the face. Like I'd been invited to a club, only for a last-minute sign to say 'Bats only.' I felt like even more of an outsider. I'd always been worried that I wouldn't belong, but to basically tell me that I wasn't allowed to know anything about their patrols? That hurt. Surprisingly a lot.

"You look good in my clothes," Tim teased, trying to lighten the tension.

It didn't help. And I was still angry. And this was a very obvious change-the-subject-quick quip. I decided to let the conversation move on, despite my hurt and anger. I stuck my tongue out at Tim.

"Shut up," I whined playfully. I turned to Bruce. I was far from over the hurt, but it was time to pretend that I was. "So how's the adoption thing going?"

Bruce smiled slightly. "It's going. Lots of papers to sign. Lots of waiting."

"And you did this how many times?" I mocked.

That was a mistake on my part. I was a lot more sarcastic when I was hurt and angry. Not to mention, what I'd said reminded me with a pang that I wasn't the first. I was the fourth. Suddenly I realized how Jason must have felt when Tim had become Robin. I wasn't the one being replaced, but it felt like I was just there. Like I wasn't important.

"Very funny," Tim said, rolling his eyes. But he was smiling.

Alfred took our dishes to the sink. Once again, I offered to help clean up. Once again, he declined. I followed Tim and Bruce out of the room. Feeling left out and a bit lonely and useless, I matched my pace with Bruce's.

"So, what can I do?" I asked.

Bruce shot me a confused look. "Do?"

"Yeah," I said. "I want to do something. Laundry? Vacuuming? Washing windows? If I'm staying here I want to help." I don't want to be useless, was what I wanted to say. I'm not going to break, I wanted to say. Let me do something, I wanted to say.

"You don't have to do anything," Bruce told me. "You're a part of this family now."

"Besides, Alfred's got you beat on all those points," Tim pointed out. I shrugged.

"I guess."

"Before I forget, I have something to give you," Bruce said to me.

Tim went off somewhere while I followed Bruce. He went into his room. I hesitated to follow. It was his personal space. His privacy. I didn't want to intrude. So I stayed in the hallway until Bruce returned with a small box. I gave him a curious glance before opening the box. Inside it was a black cell phone.

"Wow," I said. "You didn't have to. Really."

"It's a good idea to be able to get in touch in case something happens," Bruce replied. He had me there. "It has internet connection, too. You're probably better off asking Tim what else included, though." I grinned. "I already put my, Dick's, Tim's, and the house phone numbers in the contacts."

"Great," I said. "Thanks. Thanks a bunch!"

Bruce glanced at his watch, then began fast-walking away. He shouted back something about work. And I was left alone once again.

I wandered the halls, trying to figure out what I could do. I mean, there was always going out into the city, but with all the crime, plus with Bruce Wayne adopting me, it probably wasn't a good idea. Not to mention, I didn't like going places alone. It made me feel vulnerable.

So I tried to find Tim. I found him with his own laptop, but he looked so engrossed in whatever he was doing that I felt like I was intruding. So I left. Alfred was doing whatever Alfred did, probably. Which left me. Alone.

I didn't want to get in the way of anything, so I returned to my bedroom. Even that made me feel lonely and small and alone. The room was huge. White walls. Wood floor. An empty bookcase. A nightstand with a lamp. Plain white sheets on the bed. Plain white pillows. It wasn't me at all. It was a stranger's room. It was a guest room.

I just lied in my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I wasn't in the mood for watching Batman. But I had nothing else to do. I was useless. And boring. And bored. And then my cell phone buzzed. Confused at who would be texting me, I looked at the ID. I smiled. It was Dick. I opened the message.

DICK: How's B treating you? Like a queen, I hope!

I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't fragile. Just because I was of the female sex didn't mean I needed to be – nor wanted to be – treated differently. I smirked.

ELLE: He has yet to kneel at my feet. Oh, well.

DICK: …You can be sarcastic! Good job! Have a cookie! (::)

ELLE: Shouldn't you be working?

DICK: I'm bored.

ELLE: Of course. So all the crime stops when Dick Grayson is on duty. Seems about right.

DICK: I'll take that cookie back now.

ELLE: I already ate it. Go buy some donuts or something.

DICK: Somebody's snarky.

ELLE: And?

DICK: Aren't you supposed to be shy?

ELLE: Aren't you supposed to be working?

DICK: But I don't wanna!

ELLE: Not my problem.

Dick never replied after that. I assumed he had gone back to work or whatever. But I was suddenly all too lonely once more.

I stayed in my room all day except for a quick lunch. Tim had said that he was in the middle of something and ate very little before returning to his laptop. Alfred apologized for him. I talked a little with Alfred, but eventually even he had to go do chores. I found a television and watched random shows until later.

Bruce returned late. Tim had already gone down to the Batcave after promising Alfred he'd eat a large breakfast tomorrow. I didn't want to intrude, but I wanted to see the Batcave in action. What was it like when it was in use? I started to follow Bruce to the Batcave, but he stopped me.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"I want to see what you guys do in the Batcave," I replied.

"You already know," Bruce said.

"But not in person," I countered.

"I don't want you seeing what's on the computer."

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped. I blushed, realizing I had just raised my voice at Batman. "I'm sorry."

Bruce stared at me. "You're staying up here," Bruce stated. "And that's final."

He left, somehow knowing that I wouldn't follow. And I didn't. Because that's what I always did. I followed orders like a good girl. So I retreated to my room. As soon as I'd closed the door, I started crying. I curled up on my bed and sobbed like the baby I had just claimed not to be.

This had been a bad idea. I was just a burden. And oh so alone in a big, empty room and a big, lonely mansion with almost nothing to call my own.


	6. Part 1A Five - Not Really Living

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I promise there is more of a plot. And it begins next chapter. Sort of.**

**Thank you to those who reviewed and followed this story! It makes me happy that people are reading it!**

* * *

PART 1A FIVE: Not Really Living

_Elle_

You're not really living if you don't do what you love. You're just breathing. Existing. That's what I said before, and it's true. Life isn't worth it if you play the part of a puppet. It's much more interesting to live the life of the master. That way, you control your life, not anyone else.

Unfortunately, I'm not feeling that way at Wayne Manor. I'm not really living. A part of me – a large part of me – wonders if it was worth it to say yes to adoption. I'm not living any more here than I was with my foster family. I do my best to stay out of everyone's way, that's all. And I'm quickly growing tired of watching the same episodes of Batman over and over. There are only so many out there, after all.

There is nothing in the house or my room to show that I belong here. It's like I don't exist. I certainly don't feel as if I do. I'm invisible. Or maybe I really don't exist.

I came here so that I could live better, but I've found that I'm not really living at all.

* * *

_Thursday, June 28_

I'd lived at Wayne Manor for a week and nothing had changed. I still did my best to stay out of the others' way. I still felt like a stranger living in a guest room (and I was starting to wonder if it actually was a guest room). I still had nightmares almost every night.

I'd left the house once after asking Alfred if he could drive me to the library. Luckily, he wasn't busy and was able to do so. I got myself a library card and a stack of science fiction and dystopian books (like 'Hunger Games,' 'Uglies,' and '1984'). At least I wasn't as bored. And now I had ten books in my bookcase, even though it was only temporary.

I'd also gone to the grocery store, again by Alfred driving me. I only bought some small necessities – hair brush, shampoo, soap, toothbrush, tampons, underwear, bras, stuff like that – but it was nice to have some items to call my own in my bureau and my connecting bathroom. My closet, though, was filled with some of Tim's clothes, some of Dick's clothes, and some of Barbara's clothes. I wanted to ask about her, but ultimately decided against it. I didn't need someone else to basically look over me.

Other than briefly going out that day, though, I was still just existing. Bruce worked during the day – whether he went out to an office or whatever or if he stayed in his own private office at home, he was still working – and Tim was busy doing whatever he did. I was left on my own a lot, which scared me.

I was reading one of my library books when my bedroom door burst open and Dick jumped onto my bed. I cried out in surprise and fumbled with my book, hoping to save the page (I didn't). I looked at Dick and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" I asked dryly.

Dick pouted. "I came for a visit and that's all you can say to me?"

"Yes."

Dick grabbed my book from my hands, ignoring my startled, "Hey!"

"Oh, no, not another bookworm!" Dick teased. "We already have Tim for that!"

I ignored the hurt I felt from that. It was true, after all. Tim was the designated bookworm slash nerd of the Wayne Manor. Then who was I supposed to be?

"Give me back my book," I said, reaching for it. Dick held it away. I sighed. I didn't want to play this game with him. "Why are you here?"

"I'm visiting for a few days," Dick explained, finally handing back the book. I placed it on the nightstand. "So, you like to read?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

"Nothing," Dick said. "Just getting to know you, sis."

I shot him a look. "Don't call me that, please."

Dick stared at me for a moment before realization dawned on him. "Oh. Did someone in your family call you that?"

I didn't answer the question. Worried that Dick might try to push the subject, I said the first thing that came into my mind. "When do I get to meet Jason?"

Dick's expression darkened a bit. "You don't."

I rolled my eyes. "I want to meet him. He really doesn't seem as bad as everyone makes him out to be." Of course, I was slightly biased. I liked Jason. And, to be honest, I agreed with his method of controlling crime. It made sense to me. Not that I would tell anyone that. I'd probably get locked up in a heartbeat.

Dick frowned. "Real life is different."

I shrugged. "Still. He's a part of your family. And if I'm going to become part of your family, then I deserve to meet him, and he deserves to meet me." Even if he probably wouldn't care. Or try to kill me. But I really shouldn't make assumptions.

Dick shook his head. "You don't want to meet him. Trust me."

"I wish everyone would stop treating me like I'm a child!" I snapped angrily. "I'm seventeen years old! I know what I do and don't want!" Dick stared at me in surprise. I bottled down the rest of my anger. Embarrassment and shame became my prominent emotions. I looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dick said gently. "It's okay to be mad. We want you to be comfortable enough around us to be able to yell. Or cry or come to us if you need help."

I shrugged. "'Kay."

"Elle," Dick said softly. "Ellie, look at me." I did so reluctantly, ignoring the new nickname Dick had given me. At least he wasn't calling me 'sis.' "You don't have to be polite and nice all the time. Be mad, be sad, be grumpy, whatever. Don't hide from us. We're family."

Not yet, I thought.

Dick sighed and stood. "If you ever need anything, just ask." He leaned over and gave me a hug. I stiffened. I didn't relax until Dick let go and finally left the room.

* * *

_Friday, June 29_

I was restless and bored. Not as bored as before. After all, I had my laptop and books. But I was beginning to feel trapped in the house. I didn't have any chores, which made me feel useless. I didn't like not having anything useful to do. And I was starting to feel like a lazy bum.

It was still early when Dick and Tim told Alfred that they were going for a run. I perked up. It was a way to get out of the house. And exercise was important. I knew that I was out of shape and could in no way keep up with Dick and Tim, but I still wanted to tag along.

After some persuading, I followed Dick and Tim as we ran. I felt bad and embarrassed that they had to slow down their pace to stick with me. I'd have let them run ahead, but I didn't know the way. As soon as I saw Wayne Manor come back into view, though, I let them leave me behind as they raced.

Out of breath, I came to a huffing stop. I was definitely out of shape, but I had refused to stop for any reason. I watched Dick and Tim run at full speed, laughing and taunting each other. I tugged self-consciously on my – er, Tim's – shirt. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough. I was agile enough, and I had a good reaction time, but those didn't really count. I didn't belong here, with the Batfamily.

I told myself that I would be better at fitting in. First thing's first: get in shape. But I didn't want anyone to know I felt left out, so I didn't ask for help. I ate less at lunch and dinner than I normally did. I ate one plate of food at each, plus a very small dessert. Usually, I'd eat closer to one and a half plates. Hey, every little bit I didn't eat counted.

I decided to try some sit-ups and push-ups in my room so that no one would see me making a fool of myself. I only managed to get to twenty sit-ups and three push-ups. That needed to change. I made a goal that by the end of August, I would be able to do one hundred sit-ups and twenty push-ups. That evening, I went for another run. The sun was still up, so I could see where I was going. I knew the path after doing it once, so I went alone, only telling Alfred where I was going. I didn't want Dick and Tim to come with me. What if they made fun of me?

I refused to stop for any reason. I pushed myself until I did the entire course. By the time I returned to the house, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all in the Batcave, getting ready to leave for patrol or whatever (they didn't tell me anything).

"Miss Elle, I am worried about your behavior today," Alfred told me.

I blushed as I drank a glass of water. I decided to tell him the truth. I trusted him not to tell the others. "I'm out of shape," I said. "I want to be able to keep up with them when they go running."

"It would not do anyone any good if you passed out from exhaustion," Alfred replied sternly.

I shrugged. "I know my limits. I just want to … be up to par with them, I guess." I glanced in the general direction of the Batcave. "Don't tell them that, though."

"Tell who what?" Alfred replied, giving me the slightest of grins before walking away.

I wanted to ask him if I could do something in the house, but knew he'd say no. I headed back up to my room. I still felt out of place and like a burden. What was the point of me even staying there? This had been a mistake. Maybe I should just leave and save everyone the trouble.


	7. Part 1A Six - Struggling With Life

**Warnings: language, violence (not too graphic in most parts), attempted rape (doesn't go very far)**

* * *

PART 1A SIX: Struggling With Life

_Elle_

Sometimes life challenges you, and sometimes it just struggles against you. Or you struggle against life. Either way, you can't meet the challenges, and life won't give you another way around it. It's like a tug-of-war. You're drowning or sinking or falling and so life throws you a rope. But as soon as you grab the rope, life won't let go. So you both tug on it, trying to get the advantage, but in the end, it's a stalemate.

That's when you have to think about where you are in life. Is this struggle, this challenge that you can't beat, worth it? Should you let go of the rope and try to get out of the problem yourself? It's a hard decision to make, and a lot of people don't know what to do.

Some people hang on to the rope as if it's their only lifeline, as if there is absolutely no other way to go. There's a ledge right next to them or a branch to pull themselves up with, but they're too afraid to let go of whatever life has given them, because what if it's the wrong choice? What if they miss the ledge or the branch breaks?

Others let go before looking for another way out. Or they let go of the rope thinking that there is no other way. They drown or fall to their deaths because they believe they've lost the only chance they've got to live, when in reality, they only stopped looking. They let go of the obvious struggle but never tried to find another way around it.

Very few make the third decision, which is to try to find a way around the struggle. But some do. They pull themselves up with the branch or the ledge, tip their hats to life, and move on until another challenge faces them.

Right now, I honestly don't know where I'm at, or what I'm going to do. I thought that I was part of the minority of the third group. The struggle was that my family was dead and I was stuck in foster care. The branch was the opportunity to get adopted by Bruce Wayne. I thought that I had beat life at its own game.

But now I wonder if I just leapt from one rope to another. Although I I'm not in foster care anymore, I'm not gaining any ground with the Batfamily. I am still a loner and alone. I am still having trouble figuring out what I am supposed to be doing.

So, the question is, should I continue to hang from the rope, or should I search for another way out?

* * *

_Saturday, June 30_

I woke up from a nightmare at four in the morning. I'd only slept for three hours, but there was no way I'd be able to get back to sleep. I forced myself out of bed and quietly started doing sit-ups and push-ups.

I did ten sit-ups every other minute and five push-ups every other minute for an hour. Doing the math, I realized afterwards that I had done 300 sit-ups and 150 push-ups, give or take a few because I collapsed a few times from the pain.

Wanting to keep track of my progress, I created a Word document on my laptop and recorded what I'd done yesterday and today. Then I got dressed and headed downstairs. Alfred was already up, so I let him know where I was going. He handed me a water bottle before I left. Once again, I didn't let myself stop running for anything. And, once again, I nearly collapsed by the time I'd returned to the manor.

I snuck back upstairs and took a shower after recording how long it had taken me to run the course (nearly 40 minutes). I watched a couple of episodes of Batman: The Animated Series, read a couple chapters of my book, then headed downstairs for breakfast.

I watched Bruce, Dick, and Tim interact with each other. I wished that I could be included in their family dynamic, but it just wasn't possible. I was just a burden. Useless. Dick tried to get me to talk, but I only gave one-word answers. And then Dick was dragged into another conversation with Tim and Bruce. When their conversation started getting more serious and their voices started getting quieter, I realized that it was time to leave. Obviously, I wasn't really a part of their family if I couldn't know anything about their night job.

I picked up my plate and brought it over to the sink. Alfred stopped me from helping and basically kicked me out of the kitchen. I returned to my room, wishing that I had something to do. I was just bumming off of them, really. I wanted to help. But they wouldn't let me.

I thought long and hard about it all day. In the end, I dressed in the only clothes that were truly mine, scribbled a note on a scrap piece of paper that said I was leaving, and snuck out when the Batfamily was out. I left everything behind, including my laptop and cell phone. Those weren't truly mine, anyway. They were just expensive gifts given to me by a man with too much money on his hands.

It was one in the morning in Gotham. Only ten minutes into walking around the city did I realize that I really hadn't thought things through enough. Where was I supposed to go? How was I going to survive? I had no money and I was far from a street kid.

I didn't pay attention to where I was going. I just wanted to get as far away from Wayne Manor as I could. Although, really, I should have known better than to try to get away from the Bats. They patrolled all over the city, right? So they could probably find me if they wanted to. And it wasn't like I was all that great at hiding. The question was, would they want to find me?

I was so into my thoughts that I never noticed anyone come up behind me. I did notice, though, when I was pushed into an alley. I fell to the ground. I wanted to cry or scream, but I was already enough of a coward. I didn't want to add anything else to the list of reasons I shouldn't be with the Batfamily.

I looked up. Four men surrounded me. That's all I really noticed because one of them had a gun pointed at me. And I didn't feel like observing my attackers when there was a bullet waiting to be shot at my head.

"W-what do you want?" I tried to sound braver than I was. In reality, my heart was beating so fast I was surprised it didn't explode out of my chest.

"We want your money," one of the guys said.

"I don't have any," I told them. I kept my eye on the gun. If it wasn't for that, I'd make a run for it.

"Turn out your pockets," another guy ordered. I carefully rose to my feet and did what they asked. Empty, as I'd said.

"Well, a little girl lost on her own and with no money," the guy with the gun said. The other guys chuckled. I suddenly didn't like where this was going. "What do you think we can do with you?"

"I can think of a few things," the first guy said. The fourth guy reached for my shirt. I tugged away from him. I lifted my arm up to try to punch his nose, but he caught my wrist. He used his body to shove me against the side of the alley. He grabbed my other wrist and held them both above my head.

"Let go!" I yelled, scared. This had been such a bad idea.

The guy with the gun traced the side of my body with the weapon. My entire body shook but I didn't say anything else, lest he decided to shoot me. I started crying.

"Please," I begged. "Please, don't."

I tried to maneuver out of the man's grip or to kick him in the crotch, but the gun was suddenly on my cheek. I closed my eyes and let out a sob.

"Another word, bitch," the man growled.

"Now is that any way to treat a lady?" I heard. I opened my eyes. There, with two guns in his hands, was Jason. The Red Hood. I let out another sob, this one of relief.

"Shit! It's the Red Hood!" the first man who had spoken shouted. He tried to run off. Jason pulled the trigger. The man fell to the ground, bleeding from a wound in his head.

"Anyone else?" Jason asked, almost lazily, but I could hear a trace of anger in his voice.

I quirked a small smile. "You'd better do as he says," I said, suddenly a bit more confident now that I knew Jason was there. No way would he let these guys go. I hoped.

The man with the gun aimed his gun shakily at the Red Hood, who knocked the gun aside and knocked him out with a kick. The second and fourth guys tried to tackle Jason. The second was shot twice in the stomach. The fourth was hit in the head and kicked in the crotch. He went down with a pained cry.

Jason pulled him up roughly by his collar. "You like forcing your dick into people's asses?" he asked. He punched him into the wall and kicked in the side. "Let me take care of that for you." Jason shot the man's crotch. The man screamed in pain. It was actually morbidly fascinating to see my almost-rapist crying like a baby.

That's when I noticed the man with the gun – who had regained consciousness – creeping up behind the Red Hood. "Jason!" I warned. Instead of helping Jason, I only caused him to look at me with what I assumed a shocked expression. He lowered his guns a fraction, giving the man the opportunity to tackle Jason from behind.

Jason and the man punched and kicked each other. I couldn't tell exactly what was happening – it was all moving so fast. Plus, I was probably in shock. All I knew was that Jason had somehow lost his guns and he and the man were fighting on the ground. Without thinking, I grabbed one of the fallen guns and pointed it at the pair.

"Stop it!" I yelled. They didn't listen. My hands shook. "I said, stop!"

They both noticed that I had the gun. They just stared at me.

"Sweetheart, I can handle myself," Red Hood said rudely.

I pointed my gun at my attacker. "Get away from him." I ignored the slight wavering in my voice. "Now!" The man did so, raising his hands up, a small smirk on his face. I tried to steady my hand. My heart was racing, but in a good way. I liked this. I liked that I finally had control.

"Kid –" Jason said cautiously.

"Give one reason why I shouldn't shoot you," I told the attacker. He smirked. "One damn good reason." I liked this. Maybe a bit too much. But it was better than being a coward. Than being shy and sweet and nice all the time.

"You ain't gonna shoot me," the man chuckled.

My grip on the gun tightened. He was so sure I wouldn't. I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, too. That I could do something that I knew Bruce and Dick and Tim would never be able to do. That I could do one thing better than them. That I wasn't useless and worthless, because if I did this, I might save some other defenseless person from him.

"But I will," Jason said. That's when I realized that he'd taken another one of the fallen guns and was now standing behind the man. Within seconds, the man was dead.

I was still angry. I still liked the feeling of control. I still wanted someone to scare, because then I wouldn't be the one scared. I turned and pointed the gun at the sobbing man on the ground.

Jason shot the man dead before I could. But I continued to hold the gun up. Jason, the Red Hood, walked over to me.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, kid?" Jason demanded. I slowly lowered the gun and wiped my tears with my other hand.

"I just wanted to help," I said meekly, my anger and need for control suddenly vanishing. Besides, I knew better than to piss off the Red Hood.

"Well, stop trying and go home." Jason grabbed the gun from me, put the safety on, and put it into his holster. He turned and started walking away. A few steps away, he turned back. "On second thought, you can tell me how the hell you know my name."

I was going to tell him I was a fan, but then decided with the probably-just-as-bad option. "Bruce is going to adopt me." Or he was until I ran off. Guilt and regret flooded my being. He'd probably give me away now. Or maybe not even try to find me.

Jason sighed in frustration. "You're that kid. Bella or whatever. Fan-fucking-tastic."

I pursed my lips. "Elle."

"Elle. Whatever." Jason crossed his arms. "Look, kid, you're in way over your head. Go back to Bruce or whatever."

He started to leave again. I ran to catch up with him. Jason halted.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Coming with you," I said. "I ran away. Bad idea, I know, but can I stay at your place? Just for tonight?" I blushed at how forward I was being. I fiddled with my hands nervously. I hoped I didn't anger him.

"I'm no one's babysitter," Jason said.

"Never said I needed one," I countered, talking without thinking again. Jason started walking again. I followed. This time, he didn't say anything.

Jason led me to his dingy apartment. As he took off his helmet, I observed the mess. I ignored the smell. It was better than the streets.

"So, if Bruce is adopting you, why'd you run off?" Jason asked suddenly. I guess he was more curious than he'd let on. Or maybe he was a bit jealous. Angry. Whatever. I knew that he didn't like how Tim replaced him as Robin, so what if he hated me because I was being adopted?

Realizing I hadn't answered yet, I shrugged. "No reason." He didn't need to know. It wasn't any of his business. Besides, I didn't want this conversation to get back to Bruce or something. Hey, anything could happen.

Jason raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He leaned against the wall. "There's gotta be a reason, kid."

"Why do you care?" I half-snapped, half tried to shrug it off lightly. I wasn't going to talk about it, and that was that.

Jason was silent for a few minutes. I stood awkwardly, wanted to sit on the couch, but I didn't want to do anything wrong. I didn't like being in other people's houses. Different people have different rules. I didn't want to mess up. Especially not with 'shoot-first-ask-questions-never' Jason.

"Why is he adopting you, anyway?" Jason asked. I shrugged. "Something happen to the Replacement that he needs a new Robin?"

I rolled my eyes. "Tim's fine and I doubt I'll ever be Robin." I said the last bit a little too bitterly to be normal, but I didn't care. It wasn't that I wanted to be Robin. It was more the fact that I would never be a part of the Batfamily. Not for real. They wouldn't let me become part of their night job.

"So why is he adopting you?"

"Because Bruce likes orphans." I said without thinking. I stiffened and glanced over at Jason. Instead of being angry, though, he smirked.

"Don't I know it."

I grinned. Jason really wasn't that bad, if you ignored the killing and the temper. Surprisingly, I could handle the killing. And Jason didn't seem to mind my being there. Unless he was getting better at hiding his feelings.

As the silence that followed dragged on, I tugged at my shirt awkwardly. Doing so pulled down the top of my shirt a little bit so that my Batman necklace could be seen. Jason's eyes shot to it.

"You're a fan?" he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Great."

I bit my lip. "Sorry."

Jason crossed his arms. "Since when does Bruce adopt fans?"

"No clue," I shrugged apologetically.

Jason frowned as he stared at me. "Wait. If you're a fan, then you know all about me."

I shrugged again. "I guess." What did he want me to say?

"Then don't say anything about my methods of controlling crime," Jason scowled.

"Wasn't planning on it," I admitted. I shuffled my feet a bit. "I kind of agree with it, to be honest."

Surprise flickered across Jason's face for a split second before he hid it. "Well that's something I thought I'd never hear a Bat say."

"I'm not a Bat," I said automatically, looking away.

Jason started moving to what I assumed was his room.

"Couch is yours. Leave whenever. Don't tell Bruce where I live." He disappeared into his room and closed the door, leaving me alone.

"Thanks," I muttered to myself. I settled myself on the couch and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

_Sunday, July 1_

I woke up crying in the late morning. I quickly wiped my tears away and tried to calm down. I didn't want Jason to see me and think I was weak. It turned out that I didn't have to worry about Jason. I found a note on my stomach:

_Eat whatever you find, just don't eat it all._

_Leave whenever you want (preferably before I get back)._

_-J_

I found myself smiling at the note. That was just so … Jason. I went over to the fridge and ate a piece of leftover pepperoni pizza. I didn't know how long it had been in there, but I didn't care. And I tried not to think about it. I drank a glass of water, cleaned out the glass. I liked having something to do.

It was 10:30 and I didn't want to go back to the manor yet, which I knew I really didn't have a choice about. I couldn't survive on my own, and honestly, I didn't think I wanted to. But at the manor, I had nothing to do. Not to mention, I would be in a lot of trouble. I looked around Jason's apartment. I'd clean up some of it, at least enough to waste another hour.

I cleaned up the trash and did the pile of dishes in the sink. I stayed out of Jason's bedroom and the bathroom. It wasn't perfect, but it was certainly a little bit cleaner than it had been. And then I was faced with another problem: how to get back to the manor.

I would walk back but I didn't know my way through Gotham, not to mention, it was dangerous. I could call the manor and have Alfred pick me up, but I hadn't bothered to memorize any of the phone numbers on my contact list. And I doubt Jason owned a phone book. I had no money to spend on a bus or taxi. I sat on the couch. I'd have to wait for Jason to get back.

He finally returned at 1:45. I glanced around the cleaner apartment before raising an eyebrow at me.

"Didn't I say you should be gone before I got back?"

I blushed and looked down. "I, uh, don't know how to get back to the manor," I said quietly. "And I don't have any money."

Jason sighed. "Come on, kid."

I followed him outside, where he got onto a motorcycle. I stood beside it, unsure. I'd always wanted to ride a motorcycle – more like drive one – but Jason already seemed mad.

"Well? You just gonna stand there?" Jason snapped. He handed me his only helmet. I put it on and climbed up behind him.

I held onto Jason for dear life, but I was smiling. It was fun and Jason didn't care about traffic rules. We sped through Gotham's streets until he came to a stop. I recognized the library and figured that I could get back to the manor on my own. After all, not only had Alfred driven me there, but Tim had also walked with me to the library my first day.

"This good enough?" Jason asked. "Because there is no way I'm going all the way to the manor."

I nodded and got off the motorcycle. I handed him his helmet back. "Thank you so much," I told him.

Jason put on the helmet and nodded once. "Don't mention it, kid." He sped away.

As I walked closer and closer to Wayne Manor, my good mood and confidence wavered. What would everyone say? What if they didn't care? What if they were furious? But I knew that I had to go back. Taking a deep breath, I entered the manor.

Alfred was the first person to see me. "Oh, my word," he said exclaimed softly. He looked at me sternly. "Where have you been, Miss Elle? You had everyone worried."

I looked down at my feet. "Sorry." I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't.

"I'll go inform the others," Alfred said. He walked off.

A few minutes later, Dick appeared out of nowhere and crushed me in a tight hug. When he pulled away, he grabbed my shoulders and glared at me. I winced.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dick demanded. I tried to look away but Dick wouldn't let me. "No. We get back and you're gone to who-knows-where and –"

"You could've been killed," Bruce said. I jumped, not noticing his presence until that moment. I saw that Tim was there, as well as Alfred. None of them looked too pleased.

"I'm sorry," I whispered pathetically.

"You're sorry?" Dick exclaimed, finally let go of my shoulders. "You ran off for no reason, scaring us all to death, and all you can say is sorry?" I must have really worried them if Dick was this angry. And I thought I had to be cautious with Jason.

"Dick, that's enough," Bruce interrupted. Dick brushed a hand through his hair and backed away a few steps, probably to try to calm down.

"We couldn't find you," Tim told me. "We thought someone had kidnapped you."

I looked at him strangely. "Why would someone kidnap me?"

"Everyone knows Bruce is adopting you," Tim answered. He spoke as if I was stupid and that I should know this already. "Crazy people will do crazy things for money."

"Well, I'm back now, so it's fine," I tried to leave the room. Bruce stood in my way. "Can I leave?"

"Not until you tell us why you ran away," Bruce said. He was struggling between being a concerned parent and being an angry Batman. I could tell. He stood awkwardly in front of me, staring at me, waiting for my answer.

"Does it matter?" I asked, half-laughing, hoping to shake off the question. No one had to know. And I wouldn't cry. Just another minute and I'll be in my room, and then I can lock the door and I can cry. But not now when everyone could see me.

"Of course it matters!" Tim exclaimed, surprised. I didn't say anything.

"Tell us why you felt like you had to run away," Dick said, much more gently than he had spoken to me before. He had calmed down considerably. "Is it something we did? Something we said? Tell us so we can make it better."

To my horror, I let out a sob. I curled my arms around myself as I felt tears fall down my face. Dick reached out to give me a hug, but I twisted away from him, ignoring the hurt on his face.

"Elle?" Bruce prompted.

"I feel like a burden," I blurted. And once it started, I couldn't stop it. "I don't belong here. You guys are amazing and I'm just … not. I'm useless and stupid and I couldn't keep up with you when you were on your run and-and I just don't belong here."

"Oh, Ellie," Dick pulled me into a hug. This time, I collapsed into it, sobbing pitifully into his shirt. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I don't belong here," I repeated, my voice muffled. "I don't belong anywhere. I wish I'd died with my family in that stupid fire."

"You don't mean that," Tim said, although it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. I pulled away a bit from Dick so that I could face the rest of the Batfamily, including Alfred, who just nodded encouragement to me to speak.

"I miss my mom," I sobbed. "I miss her peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and how she used to sing me to sleep when I was little. I even miss her and my dad arguing. I miss my dad playing hide and seek with me when my brother wouldn't. And I miss my brother helping me fall asleep when I had a nightmare. I miss everything. I even miss how things were right before they died, when no one really noticed me and I was alone but they still loved me and-and I just want them back."

No one said anything. Dick held me close to him, letting me cry. Alfred left the room. Tim awkwardly rubbed my back. Bruce stood there, taking in the scene. I realized that this was the first time I'd ever really cried about my family's death. I'd cried to myself for a week after it had happened, but I'd never talked to anyone about it. I'd never really admitted to myself, even, that I felt that way. It felt good to finally let it out.

"I'm sorry," I said as I slowly began to calm down. "I didn't mean to –"

"Crying is a good thing," Dick told me.

I shrugged, pulling out of the hug and wiping at my eyes. "Still."

"Why do you feel like a burden?" Tim asked, concerned.

"I don't do anything," I said quietly. "And I don't belong here."

"But you _can_ belong here," Tim countered softly.

"We just want to make you comfortable," Bruce spoke up. "We – I didn't know you felt that way."

"You guys want me to be your family but I feel like a stranger!" I snapped.

"Then why didn't you just talk to us?" Tim asked.

"Because I'm shy, and insecure, and I feel like I'm the outsider," I admitted, pushing back more tears. "I'm always alone –"

"Then come find me," Tim said.

"– you don't know anything about me –"

"So tell us," Bruce said.

"– I don't know anything about what you guys do at your night job –"

"To protect you," Bruce said.

"– I want to do something so I'm not useless –"

"You're not useless," Dick said firmly.

"– and I just don't belong here!"

"I understand that this is hard on you," Bruce said, "but it's hard for us, too. We don't know what you need or what you like. We don't know what you are and aren't comfortable with."

"What do you want us to do?" Dick asked me.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I really don't. I'm just tired of always being left out."

"We'll change that," Dick promised.

"But for now, you're grounded," Bruce said sternly. I stared at him, confused by the sudden change in subject.

"Huh?"

"You ran off and worried us all," Bruce told me. "You're grounded for a week. That means no electronics allowed and you can't leave the manor."

I blinked. "Okay." I was strangely okay with being grounded. It meant that he cared. It meant that he still wanted me around.

"Go get your phone and laptop and bring them to Alfred," Bruce ordered.

"I promise I won't use them," I said honestly. "Do I have to?"

"Now," Bruce said – more like growled. I winced and hurried to do so.

As I handed them over to Alfred to put who-knows-where, I told him, "Please don't let anyone hack my laptop."

"I didn't plan on it," Alfred replied. I turned to go up to my room so I could read. I was drained from all the crying. "Miss Elle?" Alfred called to me. I looked at him, confused. "Tomorrow, I want you up bright and early to help me make breakfast."

I smiled. "Sure thing, Alfred," I said. "Just wake me up when you want me."

"I intended to do so, anyway," Alfred said. I swore I saw a small smile on his face as he took my electronics away, but I couldn't be sure.

I headed to my room and sat at the window, staring out at the property of Wayne Manor. It was still big, and I was still small and alone, but I didn't feel as lonely after talking to Bruce, Dick, and Tim. Maybe things would start to get better.


	8. Part 1A Seven - Live to the Fullest

**A/N: Later on, I write how to block a punch in detail. Please note that I have no experience on how to actually do so.**

**Warning: language**

* * *

PART 1A SEVEN: Live to the Fullest

_Elle_

Going back to what I said before, about the difference between living and simply existing, I have to say that I also support living to the fullest. It just doesn't do if you want to make a change, but not too big of a change. Maybe you look a little too long before you leap until you psych yourself out or don't leap as far as you'd intended. But that means you didn't make it to your goal.

So it's best to just jump right into things. Maybe look for a split second, just to make sure you're not going to jump off a cliff, but then just do it. Don't think about the consequences because then you'll forget why you ever wanted to jump in the first place.

In real life, people do this all the time, and they end up hating themselves for it. For instance, you might decide to become an English professor, so you declare your major. But then you start thinking about it too much – all the work that you have to do, maybe, or perhaps you think you're not good enough, or you simply change your mind but it's too late – and you never make it past a bachelor's degree.

You lose your motivation and wonder why you ever wanted to be an English professor, and suddenly you're stuck with a major that really doesn't do any good unless it's to become a teacher. So you have to settle for something else entirely – a job at a grocery store, or maybe you somehow become a guidance counselor, but you don't want to do either of those things, and you never get around to making that extra hop towards being an English professor.

That's what a lot of life is – settling for something that you're not happy with. You need to take those chances that you're scared of, regardless of where you end up. Don't overthink it or you'll never make it. But don't settle. It makes life boring and you'll quickly grow tired of whatever it was you settled for. Why bother existing if you're just doing your second-choice or third-choice or last-choice job, or life, or school, or hobby, or whatever else there is out there?

Life at Wayne Manor was a leap for me. I used to think that just meeting Bruce and the others would be enough. Instead, I managed to get farther, and I believed it was enough. But the longer I stay, the more I realize that there had always been the desire to do something more, to be better, to live life in a more exciting way than just plain living.

I told Jason that I'm not a Bat, and I think that was when I realized what I was missing. I didn't take the largest leap I could. I doubt Bruce would let me help with fighting crime, but I think that's what the remaining hop is. Because I've found that I'm settling for just living in the manor, but what am I doing? Why bother?

I need to change my attitude and follow my own advice – live to the fullest.

* * *

_Monday, July 2_

I had to resist the urge to yell at Alfred when he woke me up at seven in the morning. Luckily, I didn't have a nightmare last night, so he didn't see me crying or whatever it was that I did in my sleep. I glared at Alfred through sleepy eyes since I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep.

"We start making breakfast at eight thirty, miss Elle," Alfred told me.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Why did he have to wake me up this early, then? Alfred left the room. Glancing at the time on my phone, I decided to do some more push-ups and sit-ups. After doing so for forty-five minutes and recording how many I'd done, I showered and changed. It was around 8:15 when I went down to the kitchen.

"So, what are we making?" I asked Alfred, who was getting ingredients out of the fridge.

"Fried eggs on toast, buttermilk and blueberry pancakes, and fried ham," Alfred listed. My mouth watered just hearing it.

I walked up to the sideboard. "What do you want me to do?"

"Do you know how to make pancakes?"

"If there's a recipe book, then sure."

Alfred got out a recipe book and turned to the page he wanted. I got to work making the pancakes from scratch while Alfred did the rest. I stacked pancake upon pancake on a serving dish and went to set the table. Dick was already up and lounging in a chair.

He looked at me, surprised. "You're cooking?"

I blushed. "Yeah."

I set the table while Dick watched, teasing me a bit. I ignored him and went to help Alfred bring out the food. Tim and Bruce both entered the room as we did so.

Tim looked at me, then at the food. "I hope this doesn't poison me," he deadpanned.

I shot him a small glare when he wasn't looking. "Just eat it," I sighed.

Everyone complimented me on the pancakes. I was so happy that I hadn't messed up. And I finally did something. I wasn't useless, at least that morning. That was better than every other day I'd stayed at the manor. And Alfred even let me help wash the dishes. Most people would think I was insane for wanting to do chores, but it made me feel better.

By the time the dishes were put away and the table and kitchen were cleaned up, it was nearing eleven. Alfred went to do a load of laundry, so I was stuck doing nothing. I read more from the library books, but I was quickly running out of them. How was I supposed to get through a week without electronics?

Feeling brave and more comfortable, I wandered the building. Maybe I could do as they'd suggested and actually try talking to them? After all, I had to admit that I was a big reason I felt like an outsider. I didn't even try to get to know them. How must that look? And they claimed that they wanted to know me, too, so maybe we could play a game or something. Like Twenty Questions. Or even just a board game. At least with a board game or a card game, I'd get an idea of what sorts of things they liked. Did they even have those kinds of things here?

However, after lapping the building twice – and getting lost once due to the fact that I never really went anywhere besides my room, the kitchen, and the living room – I couldn't find anyone. I knew Alfred was doing stuff, but where were the others? And then it hit me. I wanted to slap myself. They were the Batfamily. Where did I think they were?

I hesitated at the entrance to the Batcave. Tim had shown me down there once, but Bruce didn't seem to want me there. What if they didn't want someone who wasn't part of the Batfamily – which, to me, included Alfred – to see? I almost turned away to go lie on the couch, but I took a deep breath and resisted the urge. If I wanted to fit in, then I had to be the one to make an effort, seeing as they were only doing what they thought I was comfortable with. With that thought, I finally headed down to the Batcave.

Dick was over on the bars, doing moves that I could never hope to achieve. I watched him with fascination and interest. He really was as agile and fluid as the cartoons had perceived him to be. I turned to Tim and Bruce, who were sparring. I couldn't keep up with the moves, but it looked fun. And hard. But fun.

No one had noticed my entrance. Or, more likely, they had noticed – they were Bats, after all – but had elected to ignore my presence. Which I was more than okay with, seeing as their training was entertaining. I sat on the last stair and watched Bruce and Tim.

I was reminded of when I was a little girl and I wanted to learn karate or kung fu or some other form of martial arts, but there weren't any places nearby who could teach me. And suddenly, those feelings I'd had about martial arts – about learning to fight and having fun and just plain defending myself – came back at me, full force. I hadn't thought about learning martial arts in years, but watching Bruce and Tim brought it all back.

When Tim and Bruce ended their sparring match, I took a deep breath and spoke up. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

"What, spar?" Tim asked, surprised. I forced down my anger and frustration. I might be shy and insecure, but I still wanted to learn. Or maybe he was just surprised that I'd spoken. Maybe I was taking things out of hand. Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Bruce said. I looked at Tim, who shrugged.

"Please? Just really basic-basic stuff?" I pleaded. By 'really basic-basic' I meant a simple punch. Or a kick. Or, just a bit further but still basic, how to get out of a chokehold. Or something. I didn't expect to be good, or even to get it down the first day, but I wanted to try. I'd be able to mark it off my non-existent bucket list, at least.

"It's hard work," Tim told me. I shrugged.

"So? I still want to try."

"No," Bruce said. "You'll get hurt."

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. "I'm not fragile. I can handle it. Please?"

"I'm with them on this one," Dick said, flipping onto the ground. "Sorry, Ellie."

"No, it's fine," I said, perhaps a bit too harshly. I wondered when I'd gotten a short temper. Or maybe I was just getting worse at hiding my anger. I stood up abruptly and headed back upstairs.

Lunch was awkward. I refused to speak to anyone, not even Alfred. I wasn't a child. At the same time, I wasn't expecting to be perfect or amazing. I just wanted to try. Was that so much to ask? I understood their point of view; that I would get hurt and they didn't want that. But I just wanted to learn. I wanted to fit in a bit more, too, but that was just a little added bonus.

Maybe a part of me also wanted to earn their respect, but neither they nor I had allowed that to happen. I'd hidden up in my room a lot, run off, and then I suddenly want to get to know them? I could've planned that better. I hated how I'd started off living at the manor. I was trying to change it, but how could I?

Suddenly not hungry, I excused myself from the table and went to my room. I knew I was being unfair, but every little thing seemed to set me off now. Why couldn't they just teach me how to block a punch, even? I was sure that even Jason would do that.

Jason. That was it. Maybe he would teach me some stuff. I mean, he wouldn't care if I got hurt, and he didn't care at all about what Bruce thought. Perfect. I was still grounded, but I figured that it was about time that I became a bit of a rebel. I found the paper I'd written my runaway note on and flipped it over to the blank side. I simply wrote 'went for a walk.'

Of course, I knew that being grounded meant that I couldn't leave the building. But at least they wouldn't panic if they noticed my absence. I opened my window and looked down. I was on the top floor, but there was an overhang below me, a little to the left. I bit my lip and took a deep breath to calm myself down. I was scared of falling, but I wanted to do this. I climbed out of the window and shimmied over to where the overhang was. I stood on the overhang for a moment before climbing down a nearby tree.

Without a second thought, I ran off. I didn't know my way around Gotham, but I knew the main street that Tim had shown me, and I knew where Jason lived. I walked quickly through the street, trying to remember where he'd driven me on his motorcycle so I could retrace my steps. It took a couple of hours – I got lost a lot, plus Jason was on the other side of the city – but I finally made it to Jason's apartment.

I knew it wasn't a good idea to not only sneak out, but also to ask Jason to teach me some sparring moves. But I couldn't bring myself to care. I liked how I was slowly but surely becoming more sure of myself. I knocked on the door, hoping that Jason was there. And that he wouldn't kill me.

To be honest, I expected the gun that was pointed at my face. It still scared me, though. When Jason saw it was me, he threw the gun onto the couch and rolled his eyes at me. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to move aside so I could enter.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Jason asked, annoyed.

"I want you to teach me how to fight," I said before I lost the nerve.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "It isn't a game. Go home." He tried to close the door, but I managed to slip inside.

"No," I said defiantly. I knew what I wanted. And I wasn't going to let another person put me down.

"What, Bruce not good enough for ya?" Jason collapsed onto the couch.

"He won't teach me."

Jason stared at me. "And you thought I would?" he mocked. He sat up. "Listen, kid, do yourself a favor and leave the fighting to the big boys, yeah?"

I glared. "What about Barbara?" I challenged. "She can fight. And it's not like I want to go crime fighting. I just want to learn. For fun."

Jason let out a bark of laughter. "Fun? Fun? You want to learn to fight because it's fun?"

I blushed. I suddenly felt very small.

"Well, listen here, kid," Jason said darkly, standing up. I took an involuntary step back. "Fighting is more than just 'fun.' It's a lifestyle. And you don't want that lifestyle. Trust me."

I didn't know if he was talking about him growing up on the streets or how Bruce, Dick, and Tim all fight crime. It didn't really matter. I still wanted to learn.

"Just teach me," I begged.

Jason snorted. "It's just a phase. You'll get over it."

I glared. "I've wanted to learn for years. I never had the opportunity, and now that I do, no one will fucking teach me!" I yelled.

Jason stared at me for a moment. My anger faded into fear, once more. Why did I shout at him? He could kill me before I even realized he was thinking of doing so. I guess my frustration had gotten the better of me. Again. I really needed to work on that.

Jason took a step towards me. "You want to learn how to fight?" he asked. I didn't say anything. He took another step forward. I took one back. "Well, do you?"

I nodded shakily. "Y-yeah." Then, more confidently, "Yes."

The next thing I knew, Jason was throwing a punch at me. I raised my arm and ducked my head instinctively, involuntarily closing my eyes and flinching away. When I realized I hadn't been hit, I opened my eyes. Jason's fist had stopped an inch away from me.

"You want to block with your left," Jason told me, nodding towards my arm. "You used your dominant arm to block, which leaves you vulnerable on both sides."

Realizing what he was doing, I stayed in position. "Don't duck your head. A punch from underneath and in that position would probably break your nose."

Jason demonstrated the underhand punch slowly, without actually touching me.

"Don't close your eyes; rule number one of anything."

I blushed.

"You twisted your body to get away, but you put your right side – your dominant side – forward. You want to keep your body firm."

I stiffened as Jason started moving my limbs and upper body until he was satisfied with my defensive posture.

"Spread your legs a bit to give you move balance." I did so. "Bend your knees. You don't want to be locked in place." I followed his instructions silently.

"Now, when you see a punch coming towards you, move your left arm – your defensive arm – in front of you like this." He showed me. "You want to twist your upper body slightly, just to keep your dominant side less vulnerable to attack."

I practiced it a few times, with Jason correcting my moves. Finally, he was satisfied. "Not the best, but it'll do for the first day."

"Wait. That's it?" I asked, disappointed. I thought that Jason would help me a bit more than just a simple block.

Jason raised an eyebrow. I bit my lip. Okay, then. That was it.

"Do you know where the park is?" Jason asked. I shook my head. "Then come back here tomorrow, anytime during the day. We'll head over to the park and work on more defensive moves."

I bit my lip. "I'm grounded, though."

Jason snorted. "Like that stopped you from coming here today."

I shrugged. I turned to leave. Then I realized. "Wait. How'd you know I was right-handed?"

"The way you held the gun a couple days ago," Jason said. I wanted to slap myself. Duh. "And if it wasn't for that, I would have been able to tell with how you instinctively blocked the punch. People without training use their dominant arm to block."

I nodded, taking in what he said. I grinned. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, kid," I heard Jason say as I left.

It took me a little less time to get back to Wayne Manor since I now knew the way. It still took me a while, even though I fast-walked the entire way due to the fear that I'd get mugged or something. It was getting dark and I didn't trust anyone. I ran up the street/driveway of Wayne Manor, hoping that no one had noticed I'd been gone.

They had.

Tim was waiting outside the manor. And he saw me. So I couldn't sneak in through my window. I walked up to him.

"You're in trouble," he informed me.

I shrugged, knowing that already.

When Bruce saw me, he glared at me. I looked down at the ground fearfully.

"What, exactly, does 'grounded' mean?" Bruce growled. I flinched. "You left the manor after I specifically told you not to." I didn't answer. Bruce sighed, frustrated. "Go to your room. You are not to leave until breakfast tomorrow. No dinner."

I walked off, not regretting my actions, but fearing the Batman, even out of costume.

"And don't think about sneaking out again; Dick is watching your window," Bruce called.

Great. Now how was I supposed to meet up with Jason tomorrow?

* * *

_Tuesday, July 3_

I was watched like a hawk all day. I was never left alone. Even if I couldn't see anyone watching me, I could feel eyes on my back. It frustrated me.

I helped Alfred make dinner. And then I actually managed to convince Bruce that I wouldn't leave if all of the Batfamily went out that night. Of course, around one in the morning, I did the exact opposite. I made my way to Jason's apartment, doing my best to avoid the alleys. I just hoped that no one would see me.

I knew that Jason was out being Red Hood, so I scrawled a note of apology and left it where he could see it. There was no way I'd be able to get out of the manor the rest of my punishment, but I had to let Jason know that I was still interested.

I hurried back to the manor. I ran, actually. I hope there weren't security cameras set up around the building. Otherwise, Bruce would know I snuck out. Again. But I wouldn't do it until the week was over. I would play the part of the obedient girl.

And then, at the end of the week, I would go back to being the rebel.


	9. Part 1A Eight - Life is Short

**Warnings: language**

* * *

PART 1A EIGHT: Life is Short

_Elle_

Life is short. That is one thing that everyone needs to remember. Ninety or one hundred years seems like a long time. It isn't. And so many bad things can happen before then that cut life short. Illness. Motor accidents. Murder. And suddenly, your life is even shorter. It's when they're about to die that most people realize how little time they really had in life. But it's too late, and they're dead. Gone. Just like that.

The older you are, the more likely you'll have realized this. When you live with your parents and go to school, death seems like such a long way off. You have plans for the future. You think you'll be able to accomplish most, if not all, of them. But when you're on your own and you suddenly have to balance work and family and fun activities, suddenly there isn't much room for anything else. Time flies, and suddenly, you're old and retired. You realize just how little you actually did with your life and wish you could go back and start over. But you can't.

People make fun of teenagers for having bucket lists, but in reality, the teenagers who have bucket lists realize just how short a time they have to live. They make a list of all the things they want to see or do and cross them off as they accomplish them. It's living to the fullest, like I said before. Don't hesitate, because that hesitation might feel like a second, but it's actually years and years, wasted. Don't just talk; actually do the things you want to.

That's what I did by going to Jason. It was a risk to go to him. He could have killed me. Or Bruce could have found out and kept me locked in the manor, away from Jason. Even along the way, I could have been kidnapped or murdered by the crazies who roam the streets of Gotham. But I wanted to learn how to fight, so I went to the only person who would teach me.

Slowly, I'm learning to take my own advice. I'm learning to stop hesitating, stop procrastinating, and just live.

* * *

_Monday, July 8_

I woke up with the help of my nightmares, once again. It was early. Again. I did my now-routine sit-ups and push-ups and recorded my progress in a small notebook Tim had given me after realizing I'd run out of books. I took a shower and headed downstairs.

I no longer hid up in my room until breakfast. I was making more of an effort to talk more to my soon-to-be family. And I was now on breakfast duty with Alfred every other day and dinner on the others. If I wasn't making breakfast but I was up early, I usually just sat in the living room and waited to go into the kitchen. Sometimes, Tim or Dick (who had left a couple of days ago back to Bludhaven) would also be up and we'd talk. They still refused to tell me any details about what happened at night or in the Batcave, though.

My punishment was supposed to be over today, but I wanted to ask Bruce or Alfred before I went for a run – something I'd missed doing, if only to try to get in shape, especially now that Jason was teaching me how to fight.

At breakfast, I did ask Bruce, who told me I was no longer grounded. I received my laptop and cell phone from Alfred after the meal. I transferred my exercise log from the notebook to my Word document. Then I grabbed my library books and headed downstairs.

"Alfred, I'm going to the library," I told said man.

"Would you like me to drive you there, miss?" Alfred asked.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but I want to walk."

Alfred eyed the stack of books in my arms. "That won't do. Wait one moment, please."

I waited by the door. When Alfred returned, he had a backpack with him. "This was master Richard's when he attended school," Alfred told me. He helped me put the books in the bag. I shouldered the backpack.

"Thanks," I told him, grinning.

I went to the library for about an hour. Then I made my way to Jason's apartment. I knocked. When Jason answered, he quirked an eyebrow.

"Running away again?" he asked, nodding towards the backpack. "Because you're not staying here."

I slid into his apartment. "It's library books," I corrected. "So what am I learning today?"

Jason threw his motorcycle helmet over to me as he walked out the door. I hurried to follow him.

"I'm thinking more blocks," Jason said. "And defensive maneuvers."

I nodded in agreement. I'd heard somewhere – probably a movie – that a strong defense was a good offense. Not to mention, good self defense in general.

Jason drove us to a park. When we got there, he made me run a lap around the edge of it for a warm up. I was exhausted afterwards, but I was unwilling to give up. Jason spent the next couple of hours teaching me more defense moves. He even taught me the basic punch, which I had some problems with:

"Come on," Jason said, hands raised, palm faced me. "Punch harder." I tried for the millionth time. "You keep pulling your punches. Don't."

"I don't want to hurt you," I said pathetically.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Come on, kid, just do it. I've had worse than whatever real punch you can actually land."

I frowned. "I'm not horrible at punching."

"You're pulling your punches, and those barely touch me."

I tried again. And again. And again.

"Is that really the best you've got?" Jason snorted. "This is a waste of time."

Angry, I tried again. I didn't pull the punch this time, but it was sloppy.

"Oh, look, you're angry," Jason mocked. "Try channeling that anger into focus."

"You're one to talk," I muttered.

"Hey, how do you think I'm such a good shot?" Jason retorted.

I used my anger and frustration I felt and put it into my punches. I did so several more times until Jason was satisfied.

"Tomorrow?" I asked later when he dropped me off in front of the library.

"Whatever, kid," Jason replied, driving off. I took that as a yes.

* * *

_Tuesday, July 9_

Excited, I did the same routine as I had yesterday, and then some. I woke up early – again, to nightmares – did sit-ups and push-ups, went for a run, helped make breakfast and clean up, then went out. I just told Alfred that I wanted to see more of Gotham, and seeing that Tim was busy doing whatever he did, I would go alone. Alfred allowed me to do so, as long as I had my phone on me.

I spent a much longer time with Jason today than I had yesterday. We worked on perfecting the moves I'd already learned until the last hour, when we did a sort of spar using those moves. Jason would try to punch me and I would try to block or duck out of the way, and vice versa.

Jason teased me a bit, though. Well, he was sarcastic and mocking, but I was pretty sure that was just his way of poking fun at me. I didn't mind at all.

"You're way too serious," he told me at one point as we had a stand-off. I tried to fake a punch, but Jason used that to land a hit on my stomach. I fell to the ground, but I didn't cry out, which was better than I'd done earlier. "You done yet?"

"Not a chance," I panted, getting back up on my feet. I observed his body language, trying to get an idea of where he was going to try to punch next.

"Lighten up, Tiger," Jason said, throwing another punch that I barely managed to block. "You're too tense. Your reaction times slow down the tighter your muscles are."

I scowled. "I hate tigers."

I aimed a left-handed punch towards his chest. As he blocked it, I tried to hit his jaw with an uppercut punch. He caught my wrists. Unable to break free, I aimed a kick for his left ankle. Jason used my poor technique to lock my own ankle around his, tripping me. Jason let go of my wrists, letting me fall.

"Slow down there, Cougar," Jason said. "No kicks for a couple of weeks."

I sighed but nodded. Jason dropped me off at the library again, and I ran back Wayne Manor. I was glad that Jason didn't punch me very hard, otherwise I'd have a bunch of bruises I'd need to explain away. I had a couple of bruises, but they were small and easily explained away.

And so my new routine began.

* * *

_Friday, August 14_

It had been a little over a month since Jason started teaching me how to fight. In that time, I'd more or less perfected the defensive moves and gotten a lot better at punching. I'd learned basic kicking techniques, as well, although those I was having trouble with. Jason had also shown me where the spare key to his apartment was and had bought me my own motorcycle helmet. I'd stopped going straight to the manor after practice; I'd go back to Jason's apartment and hang out with him. I was pretty sure I'd grown on him, too. Not like he'd ever admit it. But he's trained me in fighting for as long as I wanted three or four days a week, so he must at least enjoy having company.

I still had my push-ups and sit-ups routine (I could do both of them a lot more easily now, although I still struggled with push-ups) and I ran in the mornings (and again whenever I trained with Jason). My excuse for leaving was that I'd made a friend and was spending time with him, which was pretty much true. I just didn't mention any names.

I had been out two days in a row, though, so I had to stay in the manor today. I spent my morning after breakfast reading and watching Batman cartoons – the former in the living room and the latter in my bedroom. When I went down for a quick lunch, I was surprised to see Dick there.

I smiled. "Dickie!" I exclaimed, earning a teasing glare from him. He pulled me into a hug.

"Master Dick, Miss Elle," Alfred said, handing us sandwiches. We thanked him and sat in the living room. Lunch was informal, something I enjoyed.

"How've you been, Ellie?" Dick asked, taking a bite of his food.

I shrugged. "Good."

"You sure?"

Okay, now I knew something was up. I looked at Dick questioningly.

"Tim says you made a friend," Dick said.

I nodded. "Yeah. He and I hang out a lot."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "He's not forcing you to do anything, is he?"

I nearly choked on my food. I stared wide-eyed at the man beside me. "What? No!"

"Bruce and Tim have noticed that you spend nearly full days with this person none of us have met," Dick said. "And then you come back here exhausted."

I bit my lip. I struggled for an answer. "I go for runs a lot," I told him, which was true. "He and I go running together. Or go to his place." Both true.

"Alfred is worried, too," Dick went on. "No one's met your friend. We just want to make sure he isn't a creep and that you're not getting hurt."

I smiled, hopefully in a reassuring manner. "He's not. I promise. I wouldn't talk to him if he was."

Dick nodded, seemingly satisfied. I hoped he was. After all, he was a cop during the day and Nightwing at night. And I wasn't good at reading people at all, much less a Bat.

Dick dropped the subject, and no one else confronted me about it, so I assumed that it was all taken care of.

* * *

_Saturday, August 15_

I left the manor as I did so often now with no complaints, only a 'be safe' from Dick, who had crashed at the manor after making an appearance as Nightwing last night.

I entered Jason's apartment. "You ready?" I asked. He tossed me my helmet.

"Let's go, Cougar."

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly at the nickname. But, like with Dick calling me Ellie, there was no stopping Jason from calling me Cougar.

Today was a 'lesson' day, which meant that we spent the entire time with a new move, or adding an additional kick or punch or twist to one big complicated maneuver. The moves had become a lot more complicated, but I picked up each part quick. It was the actual usage of them that I had difficulty with.

We'd practiced longer than usual today, not to mention I wanted to spend some time with Dick before he returned to Bludhaven, so we didn't stop by Jason's apartment. Jason gave me a ride to the library, and then I headed back to the manor. I was getting good at this. And, to be honest, I enjoyed spending time with Jason.

Later that night, Dick came into my room. It was one of those nights where the Bats actually slept – yes, they had those. Dick stood in my doorway for a moment before speaking.

"I saw you with Jason," Dick said simply, leaning against the doorframe. My eyes shot up to him, my book quickly forgotten. I placed the book aside, angry.

"You followed me?" I accidentally yelled. I stood up abruptly and walked over to Dick. "You had no right to do that!"

"The others were worried," Dick said. "And, after seeing how much in a rush you were this morning, I was too. Not to mention your reactions to how conversation yesterday. You're a convincing liar, except that you were eating." I frowned, not understanding. Dick elaborated, "You stop or slow down chewing when you're about to lie or thinking about a lie."

"Technically, I didn't lie," I muttered, crossing my arms and lowering my gaze to the ground.

Dick sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. "Jason's dangerous, Elle. You need to stop meeting up with him."

I pulled away sharply, glaring at the floor. "No."

"Elle –"

"I said no!" I shouted, glaring daggers at him. "Like it or not, he's my friend. More than that, he's my future family, just as much as you or Bruce or Tim is!"

"He's a criminal," Dick replied tightly. "And he's changed you."

I stared at him, astonished. "How?" I demanded, exasperated.

"Your temper, for one," Dick replied. "How long until he turns you into a murderer, too?"

Forgetting how I'd met Jason, I retorted, "That's not going to happen. And I just _happen_ to agree with his methods of fighting crime, thank you very much!"

"That's not how we do things!" Dick finally yelled, unleashing his own anger and frustration.

"No, that's not how _you_ do things!" I spat. "I'm not a Bat, remember? I don't go around fighting crime."

"Even agreeing with Jason's method of 'controlling crime' is different about you," Dick snapped. "He's changed the way you think."

"I've always thought this way, _Dick_. No one ever asked."

"You're being ridiculous!" Dick exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Tim asked, appearing in my doorway. I shuffled my feet before regaining my posture. I couldn't show weakness. But it was hard not to when I was going to be arguing against two Bats at once.

"Elle's been meeting up with Jason," Dick told the third Robin.

Tim stared at me in shock. "Are you insane?" he asked. "This is Jason we're talking about! He tried to kill me, in case you didn't know!"

"He can't be trusted," Dick added.

I felt the tears coming and knew I had to do something before I showed weakness. "Why'd you really follow me in the first place?" I demanded. "Didn't you trust me?"

"I trusted you," Dick told me. His voice had calmed, but his body language still showed how angry he was. Tim seemed to be in a state of shock or denial. He stared at me wide-eyed, probably unable to accept that I was friends with Jason.

"Then why'd you follow me?" I repeated.

"Besides the lies and the worries?" Dick said. "I trusted you, but I didn't trust whoever you were with. Turns out I was right."

"Of all the people you hang out with, you choose Jason Todd!" Tim exclaimed, shaking his head.

"It's not just hanging out," Dick informed him. "He's teaching Elle how to fight."

"He's what?"

"Get out," I growled, tired of being treated like a child. I was starting to feel more and more ganged up on. "I'm not having this conversation."

"Elle –"

"Get the fuck out of my room!" I screamed, cutting off whatever Tim was going to say. Even though I knew it wouldn't do any good, I pushed on Dick to get him out of the doorway. Dick must have given up on reasoning with me – at least for tonight – because he let himself be pushed out into the hallway. He motioned for Tim to leave, as well.

As soon as I had closed the door, I sank onto my bed and cried.


	10. Part 1A Nine - Life Sucks

**Warnings: language**

* * *

PART 1A NINE: Life Sucks

_Elle_

Life sucks. That's what teenagers say. That's what some adults say. That's the motto of this generation. Life sucks.

And it really does. It sucks the energy out of you. It sucks out your motivation and your dreams. But then it warps your reality. It sucks you into a new reality and then you have to start all over.

Over the years, you grow tired of doing the same repetitive motions every day: getting up, eating food, go to work, go to sleep. Over and over until you're just tired of it. You wonder what the point to continuing is. You wonder if there's anything out there that's more exciting. You wonder if you'll get back all of that energy ever again, but it's unlikely that you will.

As you grow older, you find it hard to motivate yourself to do anything because your dreams are just that: dreams. The reason you tried so hard in elementary school was so you could become a doctor, but then that dream dies out, and so does your motivation to get A's on all your tests. You try to pass high school so that you can get into university, but once you've made it, you're not motivated anymore. When you stop having dreams, you stop having that very important motivation that keeps you moving forward.

By sucking away your dreams, life shows you a new reality, one where it just isn't possible to achieve greatness or whatever it was that you'd wanted to do. You wanted to be the first man on Mars when you were younger, but as soon as you realized it just isn't possible, you are faced with a new reality. This reality is one where you just can't go to Mars, so there is no point in even thinking about it. But now that this dream and this motivation are gone, you need to find a new one; otherwise, you're stuck living with no purpose.

Life sucked the energy out of me the day my family died. It sucked more of my energy when I was placed in foster care. Any dreams I had vanished, and so did my motivation to do well in school. I was shown cruel reality: that I wasn't going anywhere.

But life gave me a new hand of cards. It gave me Bruce, Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Jason. My energy has been renewed. My dream is to be up to par with the rest of the Batfamily. That is my motivation to keep learning how to fight, despite what Dick and Tim might think.

If they take me away from Jason, then my dream and motivation will vanish, and so, I think, will my energy.

* * *

_Sunday, August 16_

I woke up early, did my usual routine, and then procrastinated going to breakfast. I considered just not showing up. Starvation certainly seemed the better option than facing Dick and Tim. And, knowing them, they'd probably told Alfred and Bruce. Honestly, I was scared about what Bruce would say.

My anger had died down a lot overnight and during my run. But I was still a little mad and frustrated that I was being treated like a child. I knew what I could and could not handle. I knew one side of Jason and had seen Jason's other side the night he saved me.

Eventually, I mustered up the courage to go down to breakfast. I told myself that no matter what was said, I would either keep quiet or, at the very least, try to be reasonable. If I lashed out like I had last night, I would only get myself into further trouble. Not to mention – thinking back to the argument – I sounded as childish as they made me feel. I needed to be a mature adult about this. I took a deep breath outside the kitchen before finally entering the room.

I was the last one to show up. I hastily took my seat, but was unable to meet anyone's eyes. It wasn't so much that I was guilty about hanging out and training with Jason. It was the embarrassment that I'd been caught, the embarrassment at how easily I'd been to anger, and maybe a little guilty that I went behind their backs. But I didn't regret meeting and talking to Jason.

"Elle, I know you're still mad at us," Tim started the dreaded conversation as we began eating. "But you have to realize that Jason isn't a good person."

Feeling my anger start to bubble again, I took three deep breaths and a bite of fruit before answering. "I have to disagree," I said as calmly and maturely as I could. I still didn't look up. I didn't want to start yelling again.

"He's killed people," Bruce said gruffly. "He's a criminal."

He's your son, I wanted to say. He's a Bat, too, I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "I guess. It depends on how you look at it."

"How you look at it?" Dick asked incredulously. "He's killed over and over again with no regrets. What else would you call it?"

"Anti-hero," I stated simply. I could go into specifics. I could rant for hours. But I wouldn't. It would only rile me up and anger them.

Tim scoffed. Bruce told me, "I still don't want you anywhere near him."

"But –"

"No 'buts.'"

Furious, I stood from the table. "It's not like I'm talking to the Joker or something," I spat before stomping out of the room. Even though I'd managed to keep my temper mostly intact, I realized afterwards how immature my exit had been. That really didn't work in my favor.

I stayed in my room. I mostly just read my library books or surfed the internet. But my thoughts kept bouncing back to my anger and frustration with the Batfamily. After a few hours in my room, I gave up trying to calm down. Grabbing my cell phone, I snuck out of the manor through my window, just as I'd done the first time.

Jason must have seen me coming because he opened his door before I'd even reached it. He gave me my helmet as he went over to his motorcycle.

I smirked. "Do you even have a job?" I teased. After all, every time I came by, he was there.

Jason shot me a look. "That would be telling."

We went to the park and did our usual warm-up. Today was one of the days where I practiced everything I'd learned, and then we'd spar. I'd gotten a lot better a feints and punches. Unfortunately, I was not very strong as a whole, nor were my kicks very good. Today, I was a bit sloppy due to my anger. But I needed to release my frustration on something, and Jason was willing to take it.

As my maneuvers continued to be sloppy, Jason said, "What did I say about channeling your anger?" I thought I detected a hint of concern in there, but I wasn't certain, nor did I particularly care.

Eventually, I managed to focus my anger into my attacks. My moves were cleaner and I even managed to get Jason on the ground more than once. I was pretty sure he let me do that, but still. It made me feel better.

I was just starting to enjoy the sparring instead of using it solely to release my emotions, but then it all came rushing back at me when Dick showed up. Jason and I stopped our sparring match, much to my disappointment and frustration.

"What're you doing here, Dickie-Bird?" Jason asked, not caring.

"Trying to find her," Dick gestured at me. I crossed my arms and glared at the ground.

"I need a babysitter, now?" I muttered.

"Stay away from her, Jason," Dick threatened. "I don't want you brainwashing her to become a criminal."

"Oh, I think she's doing perfectly fine on her own," Jason replied. I knew that he said that just to get under Dick's skin, but it still hurt for a moment that Jason had basically called me a criminal-in-training, or whatever.

Dick glared at Jason. "You need help, Jason," he said. "You can't just corrupt innocent teenagers."

I shifted my feet. I didn't think there was anything wrong with how Jason and I felt and thought about crime. It was frustrating that Dick couldn't respect that Jason and I didn't follow the same policy that he did. And the fact that he called me innocent annoyed me. I wasn't a little girl. I was nearly an adult.

"You gonna hit me?" Jason mocked, eying the way Dick's body was tense and ready to spring. "I doubt you will. You're just like Bruce."

I closed my eyes and sighed. Why oh why was Jason egging Dick on? The situation was bad enough without him making it worse!

And worse it was. I didn't know who started it, but Jason and Dick were suddenly kicking and punching each other like it was no one's business. I did my best to stay out of the way. I watched their moves with interest. Now that Jason had taught me some maneuvers, I could make out the patterns in the fighting – a sort of dance, I mused.

But as I stood there, all the anger and fight just went out of me. Perhaps a part of it was the long, exhausting, really hot summer day – and I was wearing a pair of Barbara's shorts and one of Tim's shirts, knotted at the waist so it would fit me a bit better – but it could have also been that my body was tired of being mad.

I bit my lip and fiddled with the end of my – Tim's – shirt, wondering if I should stop them, and if I did, how would I even be able to? I'd probably only end up getting hurt, at the rate their punches and kicks landed was any indication.

But it seemed like I needn't have worried, for Dick landed one final punch to Jason's stomach and then walked towards me. Jason, with a bloody lip, held his stomach and glared at Dick's back. Dick grabbed my arm roughly, not enough to bruise, but enough to hurt. And enough for me to not be able to get loose.

"Let's go," Dick said.

"Wait," I told him.

When Dick continued dragging me away, I elbowed him in the side, quickly followed by a sharp kick to the ankle. I twisted away so that he had to let go of my arm or risk breaking his wrist. He chose the former. I was pretty sure the only way I'd even managed to do that was because Dick hadn't expected it. I'd caught him off-guard, that was all. A part of me was disappointed that I wouldn't actually be able to get away from Dick in a real fight. But then I remembered why I'd wanted to get away.

I ran back to Jason. "Do you have your phone on you?" I asked.

Jason nodded warily. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes and held my hand out. After a moment of hesitation and a glance over at an angry Dick, Jason handed me his phone. I put my cell phone number into it then returned it.

"That's my number," I said. "Be sure to text me so I know what number to call when I need to escape the Bats." I smirked. Jason shot me a smirk back.

"You know, we're technically going to be related," Jason told me slyly. "And incest is frowned upon in Gotham."

I laughed, knowing he was just joking. Dick called my name. I walked over to him. Dick had driven into the city, so the trip back to the manor was short. Along the way, I received a text, which I knew was from Jason:

JASON: Kick ass, Cougar.

I chuckled at the text. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but I wasn't planning on taking his advice. Dick shot me a look. I ignored him. Jason was my friend and one of my future brothers. End of story.

Within minutes of being in the manor, Tim, Bruce, and Dick had me trapped in the living room. They stared at me, disapproving. I sat in the corner of the couch, silent.

"Well?" Bruce prompted.

I shrugged. "What do you want me to say?" I asked. No one answered. "I'm friends with Jason. I snuck out to meet with him. I'll do it again."

"He's dangerous," Tim said.

I sighed. I was tired of hearing the same excuses. I wasn't even angry anymore. I was frustrated, sure, but I was more tired than anything else. I just wanted to move on. I didn't understand why they couldn't get over it. But there were the Bats for you. Stubborn. The lot of them.

"Can we not?" I half-pleaded, bringing my legs up to my chest. "Can we please just agree to disagree?"

"What has he done to you that you're so loyal to him?" Bruce demanded. "He's deceitful and cunning. He must have done something."

"Is it so hard to believe that I genuinely like him as a person?" I asked. I think it came out a little whiny. But I was about to cry again, and I really didn't feel like doing that in front of them.

"You're confused," Dick said, shaking his head. "You're mixing up whatever the cartoons and stuff say with reality."

To my horror, I started crying. I tried to keep my voice steady. "Why can't you understand that I'm old enough to make my own decisions?" I buried my head in my knees, embarrassed at my tears. No, this wasn't okay. I couldn't cry. Not in front of the Bats. It was a sign of weakness, and I didn't want to be perceived as weak. Especially not now.

I felt someone – probably Dick, the only Bat who liked to hug – put his arms around me. I stiffened and tried to pull away. Dick – it was definitely Dick, from the cologne he used – only pulled me into his chest. I didn't relax, but the tears came pouring out faster. I let out a sob.

"Ssh, Ellie," Dick said gently. He put his head on mine. I let him.

"We're not trying to make you feel like a child," Bruce said.

"But I feel like you are," I admitted. "I promise that if Jason was hurting me, I'd tell you. If he did something to me, I'd tell you. But he's nice. At least to me."

"Looks can be deceiving," Tim warned.

"I just want to drop the subject," I told them. "I'm tired of arguing. I just want you to stop ganging up on me."

Dick pulled away, I looked up, wiping my eyes.

"I'm sorry we made you feel that way," Dick told me.

"I'm sorry, too," Tim agreed. Bruce nodded.

"I know just the way we can make up for it," Dick smirked.

Dick declared it Family Movie Night. He claimed it was to make me feel better. In all honesty, though, I think that he hated the arguing as much as I did. Bruce even stayed for the movie. By the end of the movie, there was popcorn all over the couch and floor, a half-asleep Bruce in the love seat, Dick passed out on the floor, and Alfred standing by the door observing the scene.

And if I relaxed and accidentally fell asleep on Tim, well, no one said anything about it.


	11. Part 1A Ten - Life Expectancy

**Warning: language**

* * *

PART 1A TEN: Life Expectancy

_Elle_

The life expectancy of someone living in the United States is about 78-point-something years. But what does that really mean? After all, plenty of people die young for a multitude of reasons, and at the same time, several of them exceed 78 years of age. I don't understand why we have to put a number statistic on how many years a person lives on average.

Not to mention, as I said before, living and existing are different. So maybe the life expectancy of 78 years is more like how many years you manage to exist. Otherwise, I suspect that the number would be much, much lower. Or perhaps it wouldn't exist, depending on how it was measured. You can truly live for a few years or months or days, but then just breathe and exist, only to go back to the true state of living. So it would be near impossible to measure that statistic.

And again, I ask, why do we bother having a number for that?

Because that's all it is. A number. It's not the definite number of years any individual will survive. The number of years a person lives is subject to change at any moment. Life is constantly changing, and so, obviously, can the number of years you will live.

I stopped living for a long time, after my family died. But now I'm learning to live again.

* * *

_Sunday, August 23_

It had been a week since the Batfamily and I had made up. I'd snuck out twice to train with Jason, but besides a little bit of protesting and disappointed stares, there was no real arguing. Dick had returned to Bludhaven, but he texted me sometimes. Tim and I tried to hang out more by playing video games or going to the arcade or library. Bruce even skipped out on work to bring Tim and I out to lunch once. I supposed that we were all getting used to me being part of the family. Or, almost.

My training with Jason was going well. I'd wanted to stay overnight at his apartment once, but I figured that I'd be in a lot of trouble with Bruce. When I wasn't practicing with Jason, I practiced on my own in my room. I was slowly but surely becoming better at fighting. It was exciting.

I was just about to go meet up with Jason when Bruce stopped me. I was worried that he was going to lecture me, once again, about the dangers of hanging out with Jason, but it was all for naught.

"Let's go to lunch," Bruce demanded – his way of asking, I supposed. He wasn't exactly the most emotional and heartfelt man in the world.

I fiddled with the bottom of my – Barbara's – shirt nervously. "I had plans," I replied.

Bruce fixed a stare on me. I had to fight the urge to look away.

"Cancel them," was all Bruce said before heading towards the exit.

I bit my lip before sending a hasty text to Jason. I followed Bruce to his car. Bruce drove us to a small, inexpensive diner. As we sat with our menus, I looked around the place appreciatively.

"I didn't know you knew what modest was," I teased.

Bruce grinned slightly. "I figured it would make you more comfortable."

I wanted to ask what Bruce wanted to talk to me about – because it was really obvious, judging by the place and the fact that Tim hadn't been invited – but he refused to say anything on the subject until we were halfway through our meal.

"Do you still want to go through with the adoption?" Bruce asked suddenly, completely off-topic.

I blinked. "Do you still want to adopt me?" I countered quietly. I put down my fork and looked down at my lap. Had he changed his mind? I wouldn't be surprised. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"That's not what I asked," Bruce said.

I shrugged indifferently. "If you don't want me, just say it," I told him softly, fighting back the tears. I'd known it was too good to be true, being adopted by one of my heroes. I should have never let my hopes up.

"Elle, no," Bruce said. He took my hand, prompting me to look up at him, watery eyes and all. "I do want you. I want to adopt you. But if you're not ready for this, you need to tell me now."

I pulled my hand away. "You're right. I'm not ready to be adopted." I took a breath. "But I still want you to adopt me." I shook my head. "But why would you? You know me better now than you did when you first met me. You know that I'm trouble. Why would you want to adopt me, of all people?"

"You're worried about being trouble after I've adopted Dick, Tim, and Jason?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Yeah."

"If I can handle them, then I can handle you," Bruce said. I grinned. "But you're wrong about one thing."

I tilted my head. "What?"

"I don't know you better now. At least not much." Bruce sighed. "And to be honest, I don't think any of us really do."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Yes you do. You know that I'm shy and on my own a lot. And that I like martial arts."

"But that's pretty much all we really know about you, Elle," Bruce said gently. "Why haven't you told us anything about yourself? Favorite color, favorite food, what you want as a career, what your family was like –"

"You never asked," I said abruptly, cutting off anything else he might say.

"I'm asking you now," Bruce said.

I hesitated before replying, "What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Anything at all. Just tell me one thing about yourself."

I thought for a few minutes as I ate my wrap. Bruce deserved more than just knowing my favorite color, but I was nowhere near ready to tell him about my family. I didn't want to say anything that was easy to say, but I didn't want to tell him something that was more or less a secret best kept that way.

I didn't say anything until Bruce had paid and we had returned to the car. Before he could start driving, I told him one thing about me.

"I don't know what to do, or who I want to be, after high school," I admitted. "I don't have any dreams, any ideas at all. When I was younger, I wanted to work behind the scenes of a Batman cartoon." I blushed as I said that, but I kept going. "I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to do. Animator or screenwriter or editor, it didn't matter to me." I paused.

"What changed?" Bruce asked. I was glad he didn't make fun of me or thought I was weird or a creepy fan for wanting to work on cartoons that were based on him.

I shrugged. "I grew up. My family died. I lived in foster care. I realized that the likelihood of me ever getting into college was pretty near zero. So I let go of that dream."

"And now?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "I just don't know." I had so many more opportunities now than I'd had before. The entire world was open to me, but I was lost. I didn't know what to make of it all. I hadn't really thought about a career.

"Well, first thing's first," Bruce said, finally pulling out of the parking space. "You finish high school. You'll be attending Gotham Academy in September."

Great. Uniform.

"So where are we going now?" I asked, noticing that we weren't driving back to Wayne Manor.

"It's about time you got your own clothes," Bruce said. I smiled. "You haven't been to the mall yet, have you?" I shook my head. "Then buy whatever you want. Clothes, things to decorate your room, whatever you need."

I stared at Bruce, startled. "But that's too much."

"I'll pay for it," Bruce told me. He parked next to the mall and handed me a credit card despite my protests.

I grinned. Before I could think about it, I hugged Bruce. It was quick, but it startled both of us. I blushed bright red, still grinning.

"Thank you," I said.

"I'll meet you back here in three hours," Bruce said. "I have some business to attend to."

Right. Business.

The first thing I did was get the Gotham Academy uniform. Because Gotham Academy was a local private school, all of the stores sold their uniforms. After I'd received the uniform, I had some fun getting new clothes.

I got jeans, workout shorts, sweatpants, various shirts, lots of shoes, sweatshirts, pajamas, socks, and a jean jacket. It was only after some consideration that I bought some formal clothes – a dress, two pairs of slacks, and two nice shirts.

After that, I went to one of the other stores in the mall. I bought purple sheets, pillowcases, and blankets. I bought several books at the bookstore. At another store, I bought school supplies and a black-and-red backpack. At the last store I went to, I bought an iPod Touch and several CDs.

It was a miracle I could even carry everything. It was just a lot of putting bags within bags within bags. And pure willpower.

I had an hour to kill after all that. I was going to hang out in the food court, but when I passed the hairdresser, I went in. My hair was cut into a bob, with the front of my hair reaching my chin and the back of my hair reached the top of my neck.

I grabbed my bags and dragged myself out to the parking lot, where Bruce was waiting patiently. He helped me get everything into the car. He complimented me on my haircut.

The first thing I did when I got back to the Manor was put everything into my closet and dresser. I made my bed with my new covers and pillowcases. My bookshelf now had one shelf of library books and one shelf of books that I owned, plus CDs on the top of it.

Things were starting to look up. Again.

* * *

_Monday, August 24_

I awoke to my phone beeping to tell me I had a text message. At least it was better than waking up from a nightmare. I reached over and squinted at the sudden light from my phone.

JASON: Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We got shit to do.

I sighed, still trying to wake up. It was four in the morning. I usually didn't wake up until six or seven.

ELLE: Sleeping. Try again later.

JASON: Park. Now.

ELLE: Why?

Jason never answered my text. Groaning, I got up. I skipped my morning routine and shower, dressed in the first thing I could find, left a note in the kitchen for Alfred to see, then left.

What was so important that Jason had to meet up with me at four – now four-thirty – in the morning?

Jason must have gotten impatient, because before I was even a block into Gotham City, he came speeding around the corner on his motorcycle. I put on my helmet, which he handed to me, and climbed on.

"What do you even want?" I complained, still half-asleep.

Jason didn't even look at me. "Nice hair."

When we'd arrived at the park, we did our normal run around the outside edge. We also sparred, but Jason didn't hold back as much. After a few hours of this, and I was getting hungry, I finally had to stop for a break.

"Why did you want to meet now? This early?" I asked, truly puzzled.

"Why not?" Jason countered. He observed my exhausted form. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?" I shook my head. "Right. Breakfast. Let's go."

Breakfast was sharing a box of Dunkin Donuts munchkins and orange juice. We sat at the park bench after returning from getting out food, eating in silence. And then it hit me. I turned to Jason, a teasing grin on my face.

"You missed me," I declared. Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. "You wanted to spend time with me."

"So what?" Jason snapped.

I shrugged. "If you wanted to hang out, you could've just said so."

Jason didn't say anything. But for once, we spent most of our time together not practicing my fighting moves. We went to a movie, making fun of it the entire time and annoying the other viewers. We ate hotdogs for lunch and then went back to the park. We just walked around this time, talking. It felt nice. I finally had a friend. And I liked to think that he thought of me the same way.

I received texts throughout the day from Tim, asking where I was and when I would be home. I ignored the word 'home,' for I still thought of it as Wayne Manor; my real home was gone. I simply shot back quick texts saying that I was okay and that I was safe. Bruce tried calling me a few times, but I ignored him. I was enjoying my day with Jason, and nothing would stop that.

In mid-afternoon, Jason offered to teach me how to shoot a gun. I only hesitated for a half a second – guns were dangerous, after all – but I was all too eager to learn. Jason took me to a place where no one was around. He set up targets and showed me how to hold and aim the gun.

I was really bad at it.

I missed every shot except one:

"Is that the best you got, Cougar?" Jason taunted. "Anyone can shoot a gun. You're just bad at it."

A few shots later, I finally hit one of the targets. Barely, but I'd hit it.

"Good job, kid, you got one," Jason commented sarcastically.

I smirked. "Thanks. I was pretending it was your face."

Jason chuckled. "You've got spunk, kid."

I wished he'd stop calling me kid. He was only a couple of years older than me.

We went back to his place, watched crap television, and ate cold pizza. Jason basically asked me to stay the night, in his own way:

"It's a while back to the manor if you're walking, and I'm almost out of gas. Feel free to crash here. Just don't touch my shit."

I decided to stay overnight. Jason went out as Red Hood, leaving me in his apartment. But I was glad that he even let me stay there. I texted Tim my whereabouts, then settled in to sleep.


	12. Part 1B One - Living Right

PART 1B ONE: Living Right

_Elle_

In order to truly live, you have to live correctly. There is a right way to live. It doesn't have anything to do with morals or the black-and-white that everyone seems to view the world as. The right way to live is to do what you believe is correct.

Stand up to others. Stand up for what you believe in. Yes, this includes doing things and saying things that others might not agree with. It might land you in jail, or dead. But to live right, you need to live by your own rules, not by anyone else's. Otherwise, you're living their lives, and giving up yours.

Live the way you want to, the way that you believe; that is the correct way to live. If you believe, for instance, that guns are an acceptable way to get rid of crime – and I'm not just thinking about Jason – then I say go for it. If you follow everyone else's rules, then you're not being true to yourself. That's just as bad as being a sheep. A mindless, stupid sheep.

No one wants to be a sheep. Everyone wants to be their own wolf or lion. The only way you can do that is to take off the sheep's skin and reveal who you are to everyone else, regardless of the consequences. Don't pretend to be a sheep. Proudly display your different attributes that makes you unique. Be you. Live right.

That's one piece of advice I'm not too good at taking, myself.

* * *

_Monday, August 31_

The alarm on my phone woke me up at five. I did my push-ups and sit-ups, went for a run, then showered and changed into my school uniform. Because the school day started at eight, there was no set breakfast in the morning anymore, as Alfred had told me the day before. So at seven o' clock, I grabbed a piece of toast and then waited nervously in the foyer for Tim to be ready to go. Alfred drove us to the school.

I looked at the students from the car. I tugged nervously on my skirt and straightened my hair with my fingers. I didn't fit in at all. I was ashamed to admit that I was very nervous to go to class. Tim showed me to the main office, where I got my schedule: history, geometry, English, gym, lunch, chemistry, study hall, art.

Because I was a junior and Tim was a senior, the only classes we had together were study hall and art. We also had lunch together. Tim showed me to my first class, but then left.

No one talked to me in history or geometry. I got along with my English teacher, but some of the other students said that I was sucking up to her.

Gym was the worst. I hadn't known that I needed to bring a change of clothes, so I was stuck running around and forced to play soccer in my uniform. A few kids – the same ones from my English class – purposely pushed me to the ground once. They teased me and made fun of me. It hurt, but I ignored them. I was the new kid. It was perfectly normal to be teased. They'd get over it.

I was very happy when lunch came around. I grabbed a hot lunch tray and stood in the middle of the cafeteria, looking for Tim. At least I'd have someone to sit with. I finally found him sitting with who I assumed were his friends. I bit my lip nervously, not ready to talk to anyone besides Tim, but I could potentially make friends. I headed towards them, but some girl from another table stuck her foot out and tripped me. I spilled my lunch all over the floor and my uniform. Embarrassed and near tears, I ran off, trying to find a bathroom. I couldn't, and ended up wandering the hallways.

Near the end of the lunch block, Tim found me.

"That wasn't okay, what she did," he said, frowning.

I shrugged. "I'm the new kid. It's fine."

Tim sighed. "You sure?"

I faked a smile. "Yeah."

We headed to study hall, where I sat with Tim. We got permission to go to the library, so it would be quieter. We did our homework. He finished before I did and went to talk to one of his friends. Of course, as soon as he left, I started having difficulty. But I didn't want to interrupt him. And besides, I needed to learn to be more independent. I couldn't rely on Tim to get me through school. So I faked my way through my math and science, heart sinking as I realized that I had no clue what I was doing.

When I was done, I sat at the table alone. I watched as groups or pairs of friends worked together or laughed together or just enjoyed the quiet. One girl caught me staring at her and grinned. She waved me over, but I shook my head, looking down at my lap. She must not have cared too much about the new kid because she never approached me.

I knew that I could have just lost an opportunity to make a friend, but I was too shy. Besides, school was supposed to be for learning. And I didn't need friends. I had Jason, Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Bruce. And myself. That was all I needed.

My last class was art, which I dreaded. I was horrible at drawing and painting. I preferred writing poems. I sat next to a random kid in the back. Tim sat with his friends in the front. The student beside me was an amazing drawer. My attempt at drawing a bird looked more like a five-year-old's scribbles.

At long last, it was three o' clock. Alfred picked us up and drove us back to the manor. He told us that a social worker was there to make sure it was a safe place for me, or something like that. Sure enough, when we entered the building, the social worker was just finishing up her home visit.

She pulled Tim aside and asked him questions. I couldn't hear what they said, but I assumed it had something to do with living here and about me getting adopted. I was surprised when the social worker headed over to me, next. We sat, alone, in the living room.

"What do you think about living here?" the social worker asked me.

I shrugged, grinning to the best of my ability. I did just have a bad day at school. Not to mention, I still had food stains on my uniform.

"I love it," I said honestly. "Everything is amazing."

"What do you think about Bruce?"

"He's great," I said. I had to be very careful when talking to this woman. She could very easily take me away from here, something that I definitely didn't want. "He really cares about me."

"And Tim?"

"Bruce cares about him just as much as he cares about me," I said firmly. "And Tim cares about me, too. We get along nicely."

The social worker must have been satisfied with my answers because she stood up, shook my hand, said goodbye to Bruce, then left. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Talk about pressure. I hoped I hadn't said anything wrong.

Bruce eyed my stained uniform. I blushed and crossed my arms in an attempt to cover up most of it. "What happened?" he asked gruffly.

"Nothing," I responded. "I just dropped my lunch."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Not true," he said, ignoring my pleading gaze not to tell. "The kids at school aren't exactly welcoming to her."

"I'm the new kid," I reminded him flippantly. "It was bound to happen. I don't care."

"I'll go call the school," Bruce said.

I shook my head wildly. "Please don't!" I begged. "It'll just make things worse. And I don't want any special treatment just because I'm being adopted by Bruce Wayne."

Bruce studied me for a moment. Finally, he said, "Fine. But if the problem persists, I will notify the principal."

I nodded and then hurried to my room. I changed into my own clothes and grabbed my laptop. I was just about to watch cartoons when I received a text message.

DICK: How was school?

I was surprised that he cared. It was just school. Nothing special. But sometimes I forgot that as fun-loving as Dick could be, he was also very caring and concerned about anything involving his family. And I guess he considered me family.

ELLE: Meh.

DICK: That bad?

ELLE: It's fine.

DICK: What happened?

ELLE: Nothing.

DICK: You expect me to believe that?

ELLE: I can handle it.

DICK: Kids are mean…

ELLE: How'd you know?

DICK: 'can' implies it will happen again. I guessed bullying. You just confirmed it.

ELLE: Curse you and your cop/detective skills.

DICK: Do you need me to help you out?

ELLE: No.

DICK: Tim's helping you, I hope.

ELLE: Yes.

Not really, but I couldn't expect Tim to watch my back all the time at school. We had different classes, not to mention, he had friends that he never spent time with outside of school. He shouldn't have to spend all of the school day with his somewhat-younger soon-to-be-adopted sister.

That reminded me …

ELLE: How old is Tim, anyway? You?

DICK: Lol.

ELLE: It's not funny.

DICK: You spend three months living with Bruce and you just now ask our ages. ROFL.

ELLE: I never thought to ask. I can guess, but I'm probably wrong.

DICK: How old do you think I am?

ELLE: Not saying. Watch me be way off and you laugh at my stupidity.

DICK: Would I do that? :(

ELLE: Yes.

DICK: I'm 24.

ELLE: Older than I thought.

I smirked as I sent the message. I received one only moments later. I laughed.

DICK: Hey! I'm not that old!

DICK: Tim's 17.

ELLE: And Jason?

DICK: 20

ELLE: Wait, if Tim is 17, then how come he's a senior? I'm 17 and a junior!

DICK: He's smarter than you. ;)

ELLE: Oh. Yeah. Duh.

DICK: Hey, I was teasing!

ELLE: But it's true. I'm not stupid, but I'm not as smart as Tim. Makes sense now.

DICK: I feel bad now.

ELLE: Not my problem.

Dick never answered. Bored but no longer wanting to watch cartoons, I took a chance and texted Jason.

ELLE: What's up, Red?

Jason didn't reply. Tired of waiting, I downloaded music onto my iPod and listened to music while I read one of my new books. Dinner was at the normal time. Tim and Bruce talked about his day at school. I stayed quiet. I helped Alfred clean up afterwards, even though he tried to persuade me not to. Afterwards, I returned to my room and read some more.

I was about to fall asleep when my phone beeped, indicating a text.

JASON: I have a day job, you know.

I grinned.

ELLE: Really? Never seen you do it.

JASON: I don't need people on my ass at work as well as at night.

ELLE: I gotcha.

JASON: What'd you want?

ELLE: Dunno. Talk?

JASON: Waste of time, if you ask me.

ELLE: I didn't ask you, so it's okay.

JASON: Shouldn't you be studying?

ELLE: Did HW at school. I should be sleeping.

JASON: Then sleep.

ELLE: You woke me up.

JASON: Go back to sleep, then.

ELLE: Hey, about you teaching me to fight … when are we going to meet up now that I have school?

JASON: Skip.

ELLE: No.

JASON: Weekends.

ELLE: That's not enough. I want to get better at fighting ASAP.

JASON: After school, then. Not that hard to figure out.

ELLE: What days do you work?

JASON: Whenever I want.

ELLE: That just proves that you either don't have a job, or you're doing illegal things.

JASON: Thanks for the confidence.

ELLE: Welcome! :D

JASON: I'm free tomorrow. I'll pick you up from the library.

ELLE: 'Kay.

JASON: Now go to sleep.

ELLE: 'Night.

I lied in bed, smiling. Just because I wasn't confident in myself at school didn't mean I had to be like that all the time. My smile faded. I wasn't looking forward to school. Not at all.


	13. Part 1B Two - Real Life

PART 1B TWO: Real Life

_Elle_

Sometimes I forget that real life still exists. That there is a world, a reality, that isn't all about the Batfamily. Unfortunately, school has woken me up from that. But that makes me think: what is real life, anyway? What defines it? Who defined it in the first place?

Because, to me, simply living with the Batfamily and meeting up with Jason is real life enough. A few arguments, normal teenager rebellion, three meals a day. The only difference is that they're Batman, Robin, Nightwing, and Red Hood. But why can't that be real life? Why do I have to go back to boring school and civilization?

I suppose living the dream in a place I thought impossible has changed how I view the world. So-called real life is boring, uneventful, and something I would prefer to stay away from. Starting school yesterday only reminded me that I don't know anybody besides the Batfamily (and Alfred). And that I am more or less on my own now. I mean, Dick works in Bludhaven, even if he does visit sporadically. And Jason … well, he's Jason. Bruce has to keep up appearances. And Tim has friends – at least at school.

I don't have anyone to talk to or anything to do. Not really. I don't want to intrude on Tim's friendships. And besides schoolwork during the week, what else do I have to do? Tim and Bruce are gone more often than not, either patrolling or working on a case. Jason lives on the other side of town, and it's dangerous just to walk there. I have nothing to do except work hard in school. That's all I have. Real life has hit me.

If real life is so boring and lonely, then I don't want any part of it.

* * *

_Tuesday, September 1_

I was exhausted at school, but there was no way I was going to stop doing my morning exercise routine, nor was I going to go to bed any earlier than midnight. I had to suck it up. My classmates more or less ignored me, as was typical with a new kid. It was up to me to find friends, not have friends come to me. I decided not to care about friends. I didn't need any. I had the Batfamily. That was all I needed.

I wasn't exactly thinking that when I was called teacher's pet once or twice in English class. Or when that one group of students tripped me in the halls. It was just that one group that didn't like me. Or maybe it was just a way to introduce me to the school. A test, of sorts. A test that I definitely didn't like.

I sat with Tim and his friends at lunch, but they didn't try very hard to include me in their conversation. It didn't matter, though. I had a feeling I wouldn't be hanging out with any of them any time soon, anyway. Partially because I was too shy. Partially because I simply didn't want to.

In study hall, Tim and I once again went to the library to do our homework. And, once again, he left just minutes before I had a question. Why did that always happen to me? I just didn't understand math or science. Tomorrow, I vowed to do those homework assignments first so that I could get Tim to help me.

I almost fell asleep in art class. It wasn't my type of class, and I wasn't the best at it. Okay, I was absolutely horrible at it. I couldn't even draw a simple stick figure properly.

After school, I caught Tim at his locker.

"Hey, um, I'm going to the library for a while," I told him.

Tim raised an eyebrow as he shut his locker and turned to me. "You're going to meet with Jason, aren't you."

I blushed and fiddled with my backpack strap. "Yeah."

Frustration and concern flitted across Tim's face for a moment before he shrugged. "Alright. Not like I can stop you."

I smiled. "Really?" I asked, amazed that he'd give in so easily.

Tim grinned in return. "Really."

I fought the urge to hug him, thinking it would be too weird. Dick hugging me was one thing. Me hugging Tim was another. "Thank you!" I said excitedly.

I ran out of the school and then walked to the library. Just as he'd said, Jason stood beside his motorcycle, waiting for me. As soon as he saw me, he got onto the bike. I ran up, put on my helmet, and climbed on behind him.

We went to the place where he'd taught me how to shoot a gun. I took my helmet off and looked around in confusion.

"What're we doing?" I asked, putting my helmet down.

Jason removed his own helmet. "Weapons training. And before you ask, not guns."

I pouted. I actually really liked shooting guns. "Well, what then?"

Jason pulled out a gym bag from some bushes. He must have hidden it there earlier, knowing that there wouldn't be enough room on the motorcycle for it with me on it. He opened the bag. I stood over it, peering inside. I could see nunchucks, a batarang, a sai, a small knife – a boot knife, I would learn later – and a pair of escrima sticks that looked suspiciously like Nightwing's.

"What are you, a ninja?" I asked dryly.

Jason waved his hand at the back. "Take your pick."

I studied the contents of the bag for a minute longer before pulling out the batarang. "Okay. So how do I use it?"

"You throw it," Jason said.

Duh. Even I knew that. But I guess Jason wanted to see how bad I was without prior instruction. I flipped the batarang around in my hand a few times until it felt right. I took a step back and looked over at a target that Jason had set up. I took a couple of deep breaths and then threw it as hard as I could. The batarang hit the target, but it didn't stick, instead falling to the ground.

"Good job, Cougar," Jason commented sarcastically. I retrieved the batarang and then returned to him. "Now, try like this." He positioned my entire stance, not just how I held the weapon. He showed me the proper way to throw it. "It's not all about strength."

I tried again a few more times. I managed to hit the target, but the batarang only stuck once. Tired of using the batarang, I turned back the gym bag. I quickly grew bored with the sai, injured myself with the nunchucks, and couldn't for the life of me figure out how to use the escrima sticks.

The boot knife was the only weapon I was actually good at using. Jason showed me how to throw it, although I preferred using it in hand-to-hand combat. I practiced that with a part of a dummy that I guessed Jason had stolen from somewhere. I learned how to stab upwards and downwards, depending on what I wanted to hit.

After some pleading, Jason allowed me to shoot his gun a few times at the targets. I was glad to see I'd improved. I could at least hit the target, even if it wasn't in the center.

By the time we were finished, it was nearly seven thirty. Jason drove me to the library, and from there I walked back to the manor. Tim and Bruce were out, so it was just me eating at the kitchen table, plus Alfred.

Later on, I was lying in bed with my laptop, when Dick texted me. I guessed that if Bruce needed days off from being Batman, then Dick needed days off from being Nightwing.

DICK: I'm bored.

ELLE: Kay.

DICK: You should entertain me!

ELLE: Don't feel like it.

DICK: You said you're 17, right?

ELLE: Yeah…

DICK: So you should drive over to Bludhaven and entertain me!

ELLE: Can't drive.

ELLE: Even if I could, I wouldn't drive all the way to Bludhaven.

DICK: You can't drive?

ELLE: Nope.

DICK: You have a permit at least?

ELLE: Nope.

DICK: That's it. I'm teaching you how to drive.

ELLE: What if I don't want to?

DICK: You have to learn sometime.

ELLE: That time is not now.

DICK: Yes it is.

DICK: Better start studying for you permit test.

ELLE: No.

DICK: I'll be in Gotham in 3 days. I'll take you for the test.

ELLE: …You're not serious…

DICK: Yup!

I sighed and turned back to my laptop, which was on my nightstand. I had no choice. If Dick was going to drag me to get my learner's permit, then I might as well get the freaking permit. I looked up what I had to know and started studying. I fell asleep an hour later.

Unfortunately, I was woken up not too much later by a really bad nightmare. My nightmares were gradually changing to include the Batfamily. And that scared me. I turned onto my side and brought my knuckles to my mouth, sobbing as flashes of the nightmare returned to my head. I stared at the wall, tears quickly soaking my sheets.

I looked up in alarm when my bedroom door opened. Tim entered my room, exhausted.

"I heard you cry out," he said. "And your light was on, so …"

I closed my eyes and turned my head into my pillow, ashamed.

Tim sat on the edge of my bed. "Why didn't you tell us you had nightmares?" he asked. I shrugged the best I could while lying on my side. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head and let out a sob.

"If you ever need to talk to anyone, I'm here," he said. "And he might not look it, but so is Bruce."

I sniffed, slowly calming down. "Sorry." Sorry for crying, sorry for being weak, sorry for waking you up – or keeping you awake, whatever the case may be.

Tim awkwardly patted my shoulder. I appreciated the effort. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." I didn't answer. Tim tried again to get me to talk. "We all have nightmares. I don't think any less of you."

I grinned weakly, opening my eyes and looking up at Tim's concerned face. "Thanks," I said. I sat up. "I don't want to talk about it, but thanks."

Tim hesitated before hugging my gently. He pulled away before I could relax.

"If you ever need anything, I'm right across the hall," he reminded me before leaving my room. I got up and turned the light off before falling asleep for the second time. This time, I had no nightmares.

* * *

_Saturday, September 4_

School was school. The same group of kids teased me and pushed me around a bit, but I was quickly growing used to it. The boy I sat next to in art class helped me with my drawings so that I could actually pass the class, but other than that, I had no contact with anyone except Tim, and even that was minimal. It wasn't his fault; he invited me to eat and hang out with his friends, but I just didn't feel comfortable doing so. And I didn't blame him for preferring to talk to his friends rather than to me.

Dick came to visit. Everyone was surprised; apparently, he hadn't phoned ahead. All he did was wink at me and say, "I did say three days." I only glared at him half-heartedly in response.

Dick drove me to the DMV. I'd studied the best I could, but it was difficult. There was so much to remember. Honestly, I didn't feel confident at all. I was pretty sure I was going to fail the permit test.

After four hours of waiting, a quick eye test, and the actual permit test, I received my learner's permit. I very nearly didn't get it. I was one question away from failing it. Dick took me to McDonald's and got me an ice cream to celebrate.

"I'm so proud of you," Dick repeated for the billionth time. He wouldn't leave me alone, even after we'd returned to the manor. "I can't wait to teach you how to drive."

I sighed. "How can you teach me how to drive if you live in Bludhaven?" I asked dryly.

The truth was, I didn't trust Dick to teach me how to drive. He wasn't the best driver. And I was so worried that if I messed up, he would be disappointed in me or would hold it over my head forever as blackmail.

Dick pouted. "I'll figure something out."

I spotted Alfred coming towards us. "Hey, Alfred?" I asked. "Can you teach me how to drive?" I trusted him a lot more. He was a safer driver, would (hopefully) be a good teacher, and would (hopefully) be more encouraging than teasing.

Dick turned to me with fake hurt on his face. "Hey, that was supposed to be my job."

"If I may say, Master Richard, I don't blame Miss Elle at all for not trusting you to teach her how to drive," Alfred teased in that way he does. "Your driving is atrocious at best."

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick said sarcastically. He grinned over at me. "You better get driving, then."

"He didn't agree to anything," I tried to stall. I really didn't want to learn how to drive. It was a lot of effort, not to mention, it wasn't like I actually had to drive anywhere. I preferred walking when Alfred wasn't driving me.

"I would be happy to assist in your driving lessons, Miss Elle," Alfred told me.

I spent an hour learning how to drive around. It was awful. I stopped too early at stop signs and pressed the gas too hard to get going so that the car lurched forward. I was a very choppy driver and found it difficult to stay on the right side of the road. And the speed limits …

Real life was certainly catching up with me. A little too fast.


	14. Part 1B Three -Living the Life

PART 1B THREE: Living the Life

_Elle_

What does 'living the dream' mean, anyway? From what I know, it's supposed to refer to the American Dream: family, money, property, job, freedom. That's what I think a lot of people believe the saying means.

But this is the 21st century. Not everyone wants a family. Most people don't own their own property because they don't have the money. Money is hard to come by. The well-paying jobs are the most difficult to get into. And freedom depends on the person you ask.

For some, freedom means you can do whatever you want, as long as it's legal. For others, they really only care about religious freedom or freedom of speech. Maybe it's the freedom to own yourself instead of someone else controlling your motions.

In my mind, freedom is the first thing that I listed. I think that I should be able to do whatever I want, with very few restrictions. I think that bending the rules is okay – speeding on a road where no one else is driving, killing someone because they killed first – as long as it doesn't get out of hand. My morals might be a bit twisted, but I don't exactly see the world as black and white, so it's okay if my definition of freedom is in the gray area.

I don't have that freedom right now, and I probably never will. I live in Wayne Manor, after all. Bruce hates guns. Alfred is very strict with his teaching me how to drive. No one in the family – except Jason – sees the gray and uses it to their advantage. Jason does, but he's not exactly seen as a hero.

So, back to living the dream. I don't have freedom, as I define it. I guess you can argue that I have money – Bruce's money – but it isn't the same. I sort of have a family with the Bats, but I don't have _my_ family. I don't own property – but Bruce does. I don't have a job, but that doesn't really count, seeing as I'm still in high school.

Note how most of the things I have are due to Bruce. I don't like that. I want to create a name for myself, not just take what is Bruce's.

In a way, I'm living the dream.

But I'm not living my dream.

* * *

_Thursday, September 10_

School hadn't gotten any better. I was barely passing my math, science, and art classes. The only reason I didn't have a failing grade in art was because of the boy who sat beside me. I'd learned that his name was Nico. He helped me in class just enough so that I wouldn't fail. I really appreciated it.

This art class was different, though. Nico and I were doing sculpting, as per the teacher instructed, and he was helping me to smooth the edges out. The room was quickly growing louder as students had to shout over each other to hear their conversations.

It was when no one was paying attention and no one could hear us that Nico turned to me. "Elle, I, uh, will you go out with me sometime?"

I was so startled that I pinched the clay too hard. I blushed deep red. I avoided looking at Nico, overwhelmingly shy, but excited at the same time. I couldn't stop the wide smile on my face, nor could I stop my hands from shaking.

"U-um," I stuttered, biting my lip. I glanced over at Nico. He looked nervous, even while hiding behind a confident attitude. Did I want to go on a date with him? I barely knew him. I mean, he was nice and he helped me in class, but a date? An actual date?

I shook away my nervous thoughts. It was just one date. That was all. My first date ever. And Nico seemed nice. "Yeah," I said, my voice quiet. I cleared my throat and lifted my head to meet Nico's gaze. "Yeah. Okay."

Nico let out a breath. I pretended not to notice. I found it really cute how he was so nervous. Around me. About me. No one had ever been nervous because of me. It felt nice, actually.

"Great," Nico said, grinning. I still couldn't wipe the smile of my face. "Tomorrow okay? At five?"

Without thinking, I nodded. "Sure. That sounds good."

"I'll pick you up then?"

I shook my head. I didn't want Bruce to know. Not to mention, did Nico even know that Bruce was adopting me? I worried for a minute that he only wanted me to get money, but it was just one date. I wasn't signing my life over.

"We can meet somewhere," I said.

"You know where Mel's Diner is?"

I nodded. I'd eaten there before, with Bruce and Tim. The bell rang. Nico helped me clean up the clay and tools. I was a bit irritated – I could have cleaned up on my own – but at the same time, it was sweet. Maybe I just needed to let someone help me, instead of always needing to be in control at all times.

"So, five?" I asked one more time before we parted ways.

Nico smiled. "Five it is."

We stood around awkwardly for another three seconds before we both separated. I couldn't stop smiling all the way to my locker. I had butterflies in my stomach, but they were the good kind of butterflies. My hands still shook as I gathered my books.

I decided not to tell anyone else about Nico. Knowing the Batfamily, they would become way too overprotective. And, as I'd wanted to be for a while, I needed to be more independent. This was a good step in that direction.

Out in the parking lot, I was surprised to see Jason waiting for me. I glanced over at where Alfred was parked and Tim was putting his backpack in the trunk. I had another split-second decision to make. This one was all too easy. I walked over to Jason.

"Elle!" Tim called over to me, seeing who I was with.

I shrugged apologetically at him and climbed onto the motorcycle.

"Don't worry, Replacement, I'll have her home for dinner," Jason called over to Tim. I giggled and held on to Jason as we raced off before Tim could get another word in.

"So what's with picking me up from school?" I asked when we were at a stop light.

"Faster," Jason said simply.

We had met up four times since the first weapons practice, the only times I wasn't learning how to drive with Alfred or Jason wasn't busy. I'd discovered how much I really, really enjoyed using both pistols and boot knives. Jason then began teaching me maneuvers that incorporated those weapons.

Today was more practice with those maneuvers. I really enjoyed these meetings with Jason. A part of me hoped that the rest of the Batfamily would never see how advanced I'd become. I mean, I was still very much a beginner, but I wasn't new to fighting anymore.

I was skilled with dodging, agility, reaction timing, and hand-eye coordination. It was when a move required strength that I had the most difficulty. I was only five foot four and, despite the number of push-ups I was able to do now, I was still not very strong.

But, while sparring with Jason at the end of our practice, it hit me. I wanted to fight crime. I wanted to use my new skills – however poor they were – to help Gotham. I wanted to be one of the vigilantes that the media reported about. I wanted to save innocent lives.

And, more importantly, I wanted to have a bit of fun.

Fighting was fun for me. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was only the thought of fighting crime, but I still thought it was fun. I was already learning moves from Jason. Why couldn't I become someone like him? I was all for an eye for an eye. I didn't care what I had to do, as long as criminals were off the streets – dead or in jail, I didn't care.

The thought plagued me the rest of the afternoon and evening, even when I had returned to the manor. And then it turned into excitement. I wanted to do it. I really, truly wanted to. If Dick could become Robin at, what, eight years old? Then why couldn't I become … someone at seventeen?

* * *

_Friday, September 11_

I was all too excited for five o' clock. I couldn't pay attention in any of my classes. Tim noticed my good mood, but I shrugged it off as having a good night of sleep. Since Tim knew about my nightmares, now, he believed me. I mean, I hadn't been this happy and excited since I learned the Batfamily was real and was going to adopt me.

In art class, Nico continued to help me with my project. He let his fingers rest on my for a few seconds too long, making me blush. I couldn't stop smiling or glancing over at him. Or blushing. Luckily, my hands didn't shake as much as they had yesterday.

"Five o' clock," Nico reminded me with a grin after class.

I nodded, biting my lip. I shifted my feet nervously. "Oh, um, right, I …" I found a sharpie and wrote my cell phone number on a corner of a piece of paper. I handed it to him. "Th-that's my number," I said, even though it didn't need explaining. Nico raised his eyebrows teasingly. "S-sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Nico reassured me. His expression turned sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm a little nervous, too."

I let out a small laugh. "So, see you later."

We parted. Back at the manor, I rushed to my room and tried to find the perfect outfit. I usually didn't care at all what I wore, but I wanted to impress him. He was the first person who had ever asked me out. I didn't want to screw it up because I wore the wrong outfit.

I finally decided on white-washed boot-legged jeans, a green fitted shirt, a black sweater – it was September, after all – and brown lace-up boots. I brushed my hair, for the first time wishing I had a hair curler, or whatever those things were called. Also for the first time, I wished I had makeup. I never wore any, but now would be a good time to start doing so.

At four-fifteen, I grabbed my purse and started to leave. I'd rather be really early than late. But then I thought of something. I ran to Bruce's study and knocked. I entered hesitantly.

"Hey, Bruce?" I asked carefully. Never had I asked him for anything before. "Can I borrow some money?"

Bruce looked up at me. He observed my outfit. I hoped it wasn't obvious that I'd tried very hard to look nice. "Going somewhere?" he questioned.

I didn't want to reveal that I had a date, so I used the next best thing as my excuse. "I'm meeting up with Jason. Just to hang out," I added quickly at Bruce's stern stare. "No sparring or anything. We're getting McDonald's, and he's tired of always paying, so …" Please, please work.

Bruce studied me for a moment before pulling out his wallet. He handed me two twenties. "Eat something better than McDonald's," he told me. "And be careful."

"Jason's not that bad," I half-whined, but not wanting Bruce to change his mind about the money, I added, "Thanks for the money. I'll pay you back eventually."

Bruce grinned a bit. "No need."

I hesitated another minute before finally leaving the room.

I hurried through the streets, all too aware that I was, once again, alone with a purse when it was beginning to get dark. Stupid autumn.

I went to a store and bought makeup. A little bit of everything. I didn't know what I should use, or what I would use, so I bought eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss, and cover-up. Plain black eyeliner and mascara. A pinky-red lip gloss. I also bought pepper spray, which would definitely make me feel a lot safer walking around Gotham.

I headed into the bathroom of the store and carefully applied the makeup, just copying how girls did it in the movies or in the school restrooms. It took some time, but I finally managed to look okay. I used cover-up to hide the dark circles under my eyes; for once, I hated being a night person, always having nightmares, and still getting up early.

I took a breath and exited the store and headed to Mel's Diner. Nico stood waiting outside. I smiled.

"Sorry," I said, thinking I'd made him wait.

"Don't be," Nico said, holding the door open for me.

The date was amazing. We laughed and joked while eating. I actually had a good time. We shared a slice of cake, and then I persuaded him to let me pay for half of the bill, which actually wasn't bad. We went to a movie afterward. He bought the tickets and I bought the popcorn and soda, even though we'd already eaten.

I learned that he was seventeen and lived on his own because of some family problems, so he got emancipated. He didn't own a car, but was saving up for one. He worked at a deli during the summer and four or five days a week during the school year.

He was nice. That was the biggest thing.

He held my hand as he walked me to the library – I'd told him that I could walk the rest of the way from there. I did tell him that I was being adopted by Bruce Wayne, just in case he didn't know. He'd only laughed and said he didn't care. He cared about how sweet and kind I was. And he also understood that I wanted to keep our relationship secret from my soon-to-be adopted family.

At the library, we stood awkwardly, making awkward small talk for a few minutes. When it was silent, I was just about to leave, when Nico leaned over and kissed me. I was surprised and didn't respond. Nico pulled away apologetically.

"Sorry," he said. "If you're not ready to kiss, then …"

I shook my head, laughing slightly. I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, blushing. "That was my first kiss," I admitted quietly.

Nico nodded. "Well, generally, you're supposed to kiss back."

I bit my lip. Boldly, shaking away my shyness and insecurity, I leaned forward. "Like this?" I whispered. I pressed my lips to his carefully. It was awkward and I didn't know exactly what I was doing, but we did sort of get the hang of it.

Afterwards, we both laughed.

"Just needs some practice," Nico said, brushing a hand through his hair.

I grinned. "So we'll be doing that again?" I asked hopefully.

"Same time next week?"

I agreed and then headed back to Wayne Manor. I couldn't stop smiling. Luckily, I didn't pass anyone in the halls, so I didn't have to answer any awkward questions.

In my room, collapsed onto my bed and brought a hand to my lips. My first kiss. My first date. My first … could I call him my boyfriend? Maybe not yet.

And, hopefully, I would soon have my first night out as a vigilante.

But only if Jason agreed.


	15. Part 1B Four - Life Lessons

**Warnings: domestic violence**

PART 1B FOUR: Life Lessons

_Elle_

Life is all about learning. You never stop learning, even if you think you do. And I'm not talking about school, because let's face it; no one really learns much there. You learn what you like, but only memorize everything else. Exams are all about memorizing the unit, not about learning. Unless, of course, you actually did learn. But what's the probability that you're going to remember how to find 'z' using an algebraic formula in ten years, even five, unless you're going into math or engineering or whatever you need to know that formula for?

No, I'm talking about learning important facts of life. Like that you have to make mistakes in order to know not to do them again. Because you know what not to do, you've learned. If you accidentally burned your hand on a hot pan when you were five, well, I doubt you've burned your hand since then. If you were distracted and started crossing the street without looking and almost got run over, then I'm sure you always look both ways now.

Throughout your childhood and teenaged years, you learned how to socialize better, haven't you? You've learned how to act around sarcastic people, around rude people, around nice people, around people of all types. You've learned which people you can't joke with and which ones encourage a joke or two.

As you grow up, you learn that the world isn't as safe as your parents always told you it was. You learn about murder and rape and kidnapping and pedophiles and so much more. And because you realize that, hey, those things happen, you start keeping a better eye on your surroundings when you're alone, maybe have a weapon on you, or maybe you always travel in a group.

You learn as you grow. You learn every day. You keep tripping on a bump in the sidewalk? Eventually you're going to step over it. You say something out of line in the heat of an argument? Now you know not to say it again.

You're constantly learning. The question is, will you acknowledge what you've learned and use life's lessons to your advantage?

* * *

_Thursday, October 15_

Nico and I had been dating for a little over a month. He was so sweet. I'd gone over to his apartment a couple of times. We went on a bunch of dates. It was amazing.

I still met up with Jason on the days I wasn't with Nico. I still thought about becoming a vigilante, too, but I hadn't brought it up. I'd improved a lot of my maneuvers and, although not often, managed to send Jason to the ground in a sparring match.

Tim and Bruce were working hard on a case. About what, I didn't know. They'd been working on it for a little over a week, now. I didn't know anything about it, but I knew that they were getting stressed out very quickly.

Dick kept pestering me about how my driving lessons were going (they were … going. Slowly). When he wasn't doing that, he was asking about how school was. I appreciated that he was concerned about bullies, but I didn't like how overprotective he was. Needless to say, I didn't mention anything about the bullying.

School wasn't bad. It wasn't great, either. My art grade had raised a lot. Math and science were still low, but they were passing. English was my favorite subject. I had a high grade in that class. The same group of students still teased me a bit. They called me names, still, and they continued to trip me in the hallways. Nothing I couldn't handle.

Today, Nico and I went to the mall, just to hang out. We went to the stores he liked. I was disappointed and a bit frustrated that he wouldn't let me go to any of the places I liked to shop in. But when some of Nico's friends came over and Nico started to ignore me, I took the opportunity to speak up.

"Hey, I'm just going over to that store, okay?" I pointed over to the shop that had music and DVDs.

"But, babe," I fought back a scowl at the nickname he'd come up for me. I hated pet names like that. "I thought we were going to the food court?"

Nico's friends watched us. One of them started checking me out. I shifted uncomfortably. "We are. But I thought you'd like to talk with your friends and I'll go look at the music."

"I'm hungry," Nico said. "Let's just go to the food court, okay?" He bade his friends goodbye and basically started dragging me by my hand.

"Ow, Nico, you're hurting me," I told him.

He spun around. I flinched at the furious look in his eyes. "Shut up," he hissed. "Just shut up." He took a breath. "Let's just go eat."

We picked up some food and then left the mall, eating as we walked. Nico didn't even talk to me until we were in a secluded area. Then he glared at me.

"Why'd you do that?" he demanded.

I blinked, completely lost. "Do what?"

"You made me look like an idiot in front of my friends!" he exclaimed. He threw away the remainder of his food.

I bit back my annoyance. "No, I didn't," I told him as calmly as I could. "I just wanted to go shopping at one of the places I liked."

Nico knocked the rest of my food to the ground. I took a step back in surprise. He'd never acted like this before.

"And then Kyle was checking you out!" he roared. I took another step away.

"How is that my fault?" I demanded.

"Your clothes," Nico told me through gritted teeth. "What, are you trying to get other guys to look at you?"

"What? No!" I protested.

"I can't stand it when other people look at you!" Nico shouted. He grabbed my arm tightly. I yelped in surprise and pain. "Why do you have to dress like that?"

"I can wear what I want!" I shouted back.

Nico slapped my face with his free hand. I would have fallen to the ground if he wasn't still holding my arm. I was shocked into silence. What had just happened? I ripped my arm away from Nico. I knelt on the ground and pressed a hand to my tender cheek, crying silently. Should I break up with Nico? Should I run? Should I tell someone?

Immediately after seeing what he'd done, though, Nico's face turned apologetic. "I'm so sorry," he said to me. He helped me stand up. I let him hold my hand. All of my instincts told me to run. But this was Nico. He was just having a bad day. Everyone had those. "I just got angry. And a bit jealous."

A grinned weakly through my tears and pain. "A bit?"

Nico pulled me into a hug. "I love you," he said into my hair. "It won't happen again. I promise."

I pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye. He looked so sad and distraught over what he'd done. It was just a one-time deal. I leaned forward and kissed him gently.

"I forgive you," I murmured against his lips.

Nico dropped me off at the library. I used one of their bathrooms to put cover-up over the red mark on my face. Nico hadn't hit me hard enough to bruise. It would be a bit difficult to explain the slight swelling, though.

I headed down to Jason's apartment. We did a bit of sparring before I had to leave. The entire time, I thought about … becoming his Robin. That was the only thing I could think of. Jason had wanted Tim to be his Robin at one point, hadn't he? Maybe that offer was still open. Maybe he would let me be his Robin instead. As I was leaving, I mustered up the courage to ask.

I bit my lip. "Hey, Jason?" I asked tentatively. Jason looked at me, waiting for me to go on. I took a breath. "Do you … Do you still need a Robin?"

Jason eyed me. After a minute, he said, "No."

I nodded in disappointment and made to head back to the manor. I should have known.

"But I need a Cougar," Jason told me.

I grinned widely, unable to believe it. I turned back to Jason. "You serious?"

Jason rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was amused by my excitement. "Am I ever not serious?"

"Thank –"

"But," Jason interrupted. My grin faded. There was a 'but.' That wasn't good. "You need more training before you do anything. Capisce?"

I nodded. That was fair. And understandable. "Capisce."

I was so excited. I knew there was no way I could ever tell Bruce, Tim, Dick, or Alfred because they had a different view on fighting crime. And I couldn't tell Nico because that would put him danger. But those were the logical sides of me thinking. A large part of me also enjoyed the fact that I would have a secret that was all mine, excluding Jason.

I sat at the dinner table, alone. "Where is everyone?" I asked Alfred.

"Master Bruce and Master Tim are at their night job, Miss Elle," he told me. "They send their apologies that they cannot make it to supper."

I nodded in disappointment. This case must be really important if they weren't here for dinner. Again. I had to remind myself that soon, I would be out there, too. Even if I had different morals.

"Can you tell me what the big case is, at least?" I half pleaded half-heartedly, knowing the answer already.

"You know the rules," Alfred said. "Master Bruce was quite clear in his orders to not let you know of anything that has to do with his night job."

"I don't understand why not," I mumbled into my plate. "I already know he's Batman."

"It is for your own protection," Alfred told me firmly. I knew better than to argue. I ate the rest of my meal in silence.

Afterwards, I wandered the halls of the building aimlessly. Alfred didn't let me help do the dishes, so I was left on my own in the big, empty house. I didn't want to go back to my room, the number one place I spent my time in.

I sat in the living room, flipping through the television channels. I was lonely and bored. And then I received a text. I smiled.

NICO: Come over for dinner tomorrow?

ELLE: I don't want Bruce to get suspicious.

NICO: Please?

ELLE: Okay. Six?

NICO: Six-thirty.

ELLE: It's a date. Love you :)

NICO: Love you too.

I deleted the texts, not willing to take any chances. If anyone found out we were dating, Nico would constantly have a Bat following him. Or I would. Or both.

That would be one easy step to losing your boyfriend.

Exhausted, I headed up to my room. I tore a piece of paper from a notebook and lazily doodled mask designs.

I hoped Jason didn't expect me to wear spandex.


End file.
